Love your dark
by oneamongmillions
Summary: He takes a sharp breath and holds it in, the air burning his lungs. The mere though of never having her shatters him, but it can never happen. He takes a step back, drops his hands to his sides "But it can never happen again" He says, sounding pained and broken already.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my third fanfiction ever, so please be nice! Also English is not my first language, so I apologise in advance for any mistakes.**

 **Thank you and enjoy! :)**

 **Disclamer: I do not own any of the characters**

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"Fuck!" She whispers and then he's backed against the brick wall in a hurry. One hand on his chest, her stride firm and confident like this is normal for them. His back hits the wall with a heavy thud, enough to take the wind from his lungs for a couple of seconds. The bricks dig into his back from the pressure of her hand against him, painful but not to painful. Her other hand gets placed next to his head, caging him in like an animal. She's looking at him with such determination in her eyes. He gulps.

"Lizzie, wha.." His words get interrupted by her lips crashing against his. He's too stunned to respond for a few seconds, but gets his bearings quickly when she presses the rest of her body against his and kisses him harder. Demanding a response. His hands grips her waist, drawing her more roughly to him, and he kisses her back like his life depends on it.

Her lips feels soft, yet firm, and the way they move with such determination, demanding him into submission makes his heartbeat quicken. Her lips move against his gracefully and with such ease, it's like she's kissed him a thousand times before. Then she takes his bottom lip and tugs, hard enough for it to sting, then she soothes it by sucking it between her lips carefully. A moan of pleasure escapes him, and that's when she plunges her tongue into his mouth, seeking his in a battle for dominance. Her tongue swirls around his, one, two, three times, before she draws it back home to her mouth making him chase after her. That's when she almost does him in, she sucks on his tongue and moans in complete and utter pleasure. He all but comes in his pants right then, thrusting his hips forward, bucking against her, searching for friction. He cannot remember the last time he was this turned on by kissing, but then again, he's never been kissed by her before.

Lizzie draws back, and for a few seconds he feels panic grip him with an iron fist. He doesn't want it to end yet, he wants more, so much more even though he knows he shouldn't.

Lizzie kisses her way across his jaw and up to his ear, taking his lobe between her teeth, nibbling and biting before soothing it over with her tongue. He is no longer able to put a coherent though together, everything is just mush inside his brain. All he can manage is to clutch her waist, he clutches like he's hanging on for dear life, and he's sure theres going to be bruises in the form of his palms there tomorrow. Somehow, that thought doesn't disturb him at all.

He sucks in a sharp breath when she licks the shell of his ear, dragging the tip of her tongue all the way from the lobe and all the way around, hitting one of his absolute weak spots. The feel of her soft, wet tongue and her warm breath panting in his ear makes a shiver run down his spine. He draws her more tightly to him, taking a handful of her ass and grinds her against his straining member. This is surely what madness must feel like he thinks before he feels the tip of her tongue drag behind his ear, torturously slow, all the way down to where his neck meets his shirt. Then she bites. Hard. And he lets out an animalistic growl in response. He's certain she's not the only one waking up with a bruise tomorrow. But he's not mad at all, the thought of her branding him pleases him like nothing else.

Then she kisses him again, like her life depends on it, parting his lips with the swipe of her tongue against his bottom lip, and he grants her access more than willingly. Her tongue swirls around in his mouth again, seeking, exploring, learning every inch of his mouth. And he's holding on for dear life, one hand buried in her blonde tresses, gripping the back of her head, holding her in place, afraid she'll pull away and the other squeezing her asscheek as tightly as he can. Her hands creeps up his neck and cradles his head in her hands, her nails scraping across the back of his skull, making a shiver run down his spine and a moan escape his lips.

And then, just as soon as it started, its over. She pulls away abruptly, drops her hands back to the lapels of his jacket, straightens them before taking steps backwards, putting distance between them. He's so confused that all he manages to do is just stare at her. His mouth opening and closing like a fish. And he's panting like he just ran a marathon, so he leans forward, braces his hands on his knees and gasps for breath.

He hears her steps stop then, and lifts his head to see across the small distance she's created. He takes his time to study her, his breathing still coming out in hard puffs, while she manages to look completely unaffected, like what they just did didn't just confirm the attraction and connection between them. Like it wasn't as earth shattering for her as it was for him. She looks like the perfect mixture of shock, bewilderment and embarrassment all at once, and he's in complete darkness about what goes around in her head right now.

The feeling that this was nothing to her sobers him up quickly. And then he narrows his eyes in in anger. What was that? Was it just some whim to test what the 'old man Red' might have in store? Test what he could offer? Is she toying with him? He's so immersed in his thoughts he almost misses her release a deep shuddering breath, shivering visibly; the only confirmation that their kiss affected her too.

"I, uh.." She stops to clear her throat, her voice coming out shaky and hoarse. "The coast is clear now" she adds, squaring her shoulders to appear confident and unaffected again. And that's when a lightbulb goes off in his head. She kissed him for cover. He's not sure if he should feel proud of her for her quick thinking, or hurt that that's the only way she could imagine kissing him. But still, that was a little more than a kiss just so they could hide in plain sight. Wasn't it? It sure felt like that.

He doesn't answer, not ready to speak yet. So he settles for just staring at her. She fidgets, wringing her hands together, once, twice, and then she worries her scar. She's nervous. Her skin is flushed and she is flustered. He just continues to stare, waiting for her to explain more even though he understood why she did it.

"I'm sorry, okay?" She sighs in frustration, his intense gaze having the desired affect he was looking for. "It was the first thing I could think of. Nobody bats more than an eye at a couple making out because it usually makes them uncomfortable to stare to long. It won't happen again. Next time we'll just hide, okay? Now can we go?" She gestures with her hands down the street staring at him expectingly. But he just continues to pin her with his gaze.

"I'm not" He says when he finally finds his voice, it comes out rough and dark, rumbling in his chest.

"What?" She asks confused, knitting her perfect brows together.

"I'm not sorry" He clarifies his voice sounding rough and deep even to his own ears. He pushes of the brick wall with both hands and starts walking towards her, like an animal closing in on it's prey. Never breaking eye contact.

"In fact, I'll never be sorry. I liked it. Loved it if you cant tell" he stops, tilts his head downwards where his cock is still straining painfully against his pants. He sees her gaze flicker to the bulge, and he twitches against his slacks in response. Then he starts walking again, slowly, taking his sweet time. "Being kissed by you feels like I have had two hands around my throat, slowly choking the life out of me, but now I can finally breathe again. It's like I was dead before, but now I'm alive. It's like being granted the christmas present you always wanted" He stops then, a few inches from touching her, invading her personal space. So close, but not touching.

He raises his hands up slowly to cup her face. Then he leans in close enough to feel her warm breath on his face. He presses his forehead against hers, lets his nose brush against hers, a featherlight touch, his mouth a breath away from her lips. Still so close, but not touching. He wants to kiss her again, so badly. But he can't. If he kisses her again, he'll never be able to stop. And he needs to stop now, take the pain of walking away now and not later. Because he knows where this road leads; to heartbreak and misery. He might seem like an appealing choice right now, but she'll eventually tire of him and then leave. And when she finally does leave, because it's not a question of if she does, but when she does, then he'll be completely broken, more so than he is now. So it's better to never know what it's like to have her completely, it's better to never know the feel of her naked skin against his palms, never hear how she sounds like when she comes apart, never know what it feels like to have her naked beneath him shaking with pleasure and need. It's better to never know her love, than to know it and lose it. He couldn't bare to get a taste, only for someone else to take it away from him.

He takes a sharp breath and holds it in, the air burning his lungs. The mere though of never having her shatters him, but it can never happen. He takes a step back, drops his hands to his sides. Her eyes snaps open, staring intently on his face. He closes his eyes, lets out the breath he's been holding to compose himself and prepare. Prepare for the pain that will hit him like a sucker punch in the stomach as soon as he utters his last words.

"But it can never happen again" He says, sounding pained and broken already. Then he turns abruptly and walks away, leaving her standing there in the street. He needs some distance. She knows her own way to the safe house, she can get herself there. There is no immediate threat in the area now.

He needs a drink. A strong one.

TBC..

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 **A/N: Thank you for reading ;) Please don't hesitate to leave a review and tell me what you think :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for so many lovely reviews, I appreciate every single one. Thank you :)**  
 **Then I want to say sorry in advance for any mistakes that you might find, English is not what I'm best at, but hopefully you'll read anyway :D**

 **Again, thank you all for your reviews, love them! :D**

 **Enjoy! (:**

 **Disclaimer: They are clearly not mine :P**

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He thought everything would go back to normal after 'the incident' as he liked to call it. But nothing was the same. He thought of it constantly, remembering the feel of her lips pressed against his, the way her body felt against the palm of his hand, everything. He could remember everything, and it played in his head on repeat, like it wanted to punish him, make him suffer. Because that's what he did; suffer

It was at times like this that he wished his memory wasn't perfect, he wished he could forget. He wished he could forget everything. He doesn't want to remember that her hair smelled like soap mixed with something uniquely hers, he doesn't want to remember how soft it felt when he had his fingers buried in it. He doesn't want to remember the small moans she made when he pressed himself against her. He doesn't want to remember anything. But his memory is perfect, so he drinks, trying to keep his head fuzzy at all times.

The front door opens and shuts and he sees her breeze past him to the stairs, jogging to the second floor where another door opens and shuts. Then he hears the shower start and he knows he'll most likely not see her again today. This is what its been like for a week now. Her ignoring him, and him sulking alone with only his memory to keep him company. It's become their routine; she runs every day while he conducts business and drinks himself to oblivion every night.

Each morning she comes down the stairs in running tights that sticks to her like a second skin and a tank top that clings to her small frame, showing of every dip and swell of her body. She's got earbuds in, playing music so loud he can here it from his spot on the couch when she strides past the living room. She breezes pas while he sits on the couch, conducts business, with his glass of scotch glued to his right hand, never empty.

It's torture, watching her perfect body in clothes that show him everything he's missing. Striding past him like she's forgotten he even exist and lives in the same house as her. Surely this is what insanity feels like; having everything you desire and want within your reach, but know you can never touch. He's sure he's going crazy.

He takes another pull of the glass, relishing in the burn the scotch leaves in it's wake. He knows he has to cut back on the drinking, but he's not ready yet. He needs to be fuzzy to function now a days or his mind will just play that damn kiss over and over and he'll never get anything done. And then at night when it hits him no matter how fuzzy his brain's been the entire day, that's when he steps it up and drinks his scotch like it's water. Hoping and praying for oblivion to take him.

This is starting out like the time she got married to Tom, then he drank. He drank until he was sure his liver couldn't take it anymore, then he got high. He got high and wandered the desert for days, praying for a quick death instead of the slow and painful one his heart was giving him. But he can't do that now, not while they're on the run and he's the one responsible for clearing her name and helping her while doing it. He lets out a heavy sigh and drags a palm across his face. Why her? Why couldn't he want someone else? Love someone else?

He gets up from the couch and walks towards the fireplace, laying one of his arms on the mantel and burying his face in the crook of his elbow, letting his hand holding the drink dangle at his side. Things cannot go on like this. It's to much, being around her, being near her is suffocating him. No matter where he turns she's there. He can walk into the kitchen right after she has left and smell her perfume lingering in the air, or he can walk into the study and find something of her things lying around. It's everywhere, small things of her scattered all over the home. A constant reminder of her.

"Are you planning to drink yourself to death?" Her voice breaks his train of thoughts and he stiffens automatically, his back straightens, his ears perch and his fuzzy brain clears immediately.

The silence stretches, him standing still as a statue, holding his breath with his back still turned towards her. He can feel her penetrating gaze on the back of his head. It shakes him, and he knows that if he doesn't answer, she'll get angry and yell. He let's out another heavy sigh before giving her a grunt. "No" he answers at last, his voice gruff.

"Honestly, I don't get you, Red" Her voice is calm and collected and it draws closer to him. He hears her take a small slow step. It sounds as if she's barefoot, he can her the way her skin sticks it self to the floor, and the sound that comes when she lifts it again. "You kissed me back" Another step. He tightens his hold on the glass in his hand, trying to fight against the impulse to turn around and watch her.

"You held onto me like you were afraid I'd slip through your grasp. You gripped me so tight I got bruises in the shape of your palms" She takes another step. "They're faint now, but they're still there" she adds in a whisper like she's afraid to admit it. Then she takes another step, her voice drawing closer and closer.

"And the sound you made when I bit you, I have never heard a sound so" she pauses there, searches for the right words to describe it, then lets out a sigh of frustration when she doesn't find one. She takes another step, standing almost right behind him now. "Animalistic " she adds then, sounding far away like she's replaying the memory in her head.

He's gripping the glass so hard he hears the crystal crackle in his hand, protesting against the pressure. He's hard again, replaying the kiss in his head. He's fighting for control over his body. He needs to weather this storm and just take whatever she throws at him.

"You wanted it. You wanted me" She takes another step and he can feel the heat radiating from her behind him, seeping through his clothes and crawling across his skin, goose bumps raising with it. She's so close, but she's not touching. He has to fight every impulse in his body not to lean into her, just to feel her warmth.

"So I have to wonder; why can it never happen again?" She whispers, her breath hitting his skin, making it tingle. He needs to break this trance she seems to have put on him.

He let's a heavy sigh escape his lips and turns around to face her. She's so close, only inches separating them. "Because hideous fish are not allowed to live in the light. They can revel in it for a while, gaze at it, crave it, secretly love it even. But all the light really does is reveal how hideous the fish are. Then, eventually the light will fade, and leave the cave seem more dark than it was before" He sounds pained and broken, even to his own ears. He feels vulnerable and exposed, but she needs to understand why nothing can happen.

He takes a minute to take her all in. She's in comfortable yoga pants and a white tank top, putting her perfect cleavage on display for him. He has to restrain himself to keep his eyes focused on her face. Her hair is still wet from the shower, hanging loose around her face, like she just dragged a towel through her hair a couple of times, not completely drying it. An occasional drop of water falls from her locks to her skin, sliding from her shoulders, down her collarbone and disappears in her cleavage. Oh, how he wishes he could chase that drop with his tongue. Her skin probably tastes as good as her mouth.

Her hand raises and moves toward him. He closes his eyes in anticipation, waiting for her touch, restraining himself not to pounce when the touch finally does come. He's certain it would've undone him of he wasn't prepared. She cups his face lovingly, tracing her thumb over his cheek. The electricity that's somehow always there when they touch claws it way across his body. He can feel it shimmering in the air around them and the intensity of it makes him draw a shaky breath.

He doesn't say anything, just opens his eyes to stare at her in wonder. Does she feel it too? Judging by the startled look on her face he guesses she does, but he can't be certain. The glass still clutchede in his hand protest some more, the sound of the glass creaking the only noise between them. Lizzie doesn't seem to hear it, and if she does she doesn't show it.

"What are you afraid of?" The question startles him, he thought he hid his emotions well enough. Either she's getting better at reading him only a month on the run with him or he's getting sloppy. He's not sure what frightens him more right now.

He takes a step back, as if her words burned him. He watches her hand fall to her side in slow motion. Everything is slowing down around him, the way her chest rises and falls in time with her breathing, the slight tremble in her lips, showing him that he's managed to hurt her yet again. The way she swallows hard, her lips clenched together, like it's sandpaper in her throat and it takes force to swallow past it. He can still hear the creaking in the glass in his palm, he's sure it will break soon. Just like him.

He can't fathom why she's pushing the issue. She might have instigated the kiss, but she said it was for cover. And then she wasn't affected at all, maybe a little, but for all he knows she was thinking about Tom. Maybe she doesn't feel the electricity between them like he does, maybe she's just curious of what he sees and feels. Maybe she likes watching him struggle to maintain in control of himself. It's not like she wants him back.

He takes another step back, feeling caged in between her and the wall. She's still studying him like he's a rare specimen under a microscope. He needs to leave. Now. Again. He takes a step to bypass her, but she blocks him effectively by placing her body in his way. She has her hands on her hips, and a determined look on her face.

Well, this isn't going to end good.

"What are you afraid of?" She repeats, still studying him, probably looking for more clues as to what he's thinking.

"Why do you keep pressing this?" He lifts an eyebrow at her in challenge, the alcohol kicking in, giving him some form of center to hold on to, giving him a chance to revert back into Red the criminal, and not Raymond the hopeless fool who's scared shitless by the feelings this woman evokes in him.

She looks taken aback by the question, like she expected him to just roll over and surrender instead of question her motives. "I, uh. I... Don't know" she finally manage to stutter out. And he almost laughs out loud. It's like she just woke up and noticed he's a man. Like she was asleep before the kiss, but now that she has noticed she probes and questions, expecting him to have answers, yet she has none. Did she like watching him squirm?

"Ah. So you thought you'd what? Come down for a second sample to see if I could help clear everything up for you?" The words come out sounding harsher than he intended, but right now he doesn't care. Right now he's angry and hurt.

She flinches at his words before flushing a lovely shade of red in embarrassment. Suddenly finding her fingernails very interesting. At least she has the decency to look ashamed.

"What do you want, Lizzie?" He questions, taking a step closer to her. "Do you want me to touch you?" He places his drink on a nearby table and grabs hold of her waist, dragging her roughly against him. "Do you want me to kiss my way across your neck?" He leans in, lets his lips hover inches from her skin, barely touching. "Do you want me to show you what I'm good for? How I would ravish your body, do things to you you've only ever dreamed of?" He's at her ear now, his warm breath fanning across her skin, his voice a sensual whisper.

"Do you want me to take you, and make you mine? Ruin you for other men?" His hands glide to her ass and cups one cheek in each palm before grinding her against his rock hard member. Her breath is ragged and hard, and she whimpers when she makes contact with his hardness. It almost makes him smile. She isn't as unaffected after all. But then thoughts of Tom on a boat and that she's doing this to satisfy her curiosity takes him. He releases her and take a step back.

Her eyes snap open and confused eyes watch him warily. Her breath is coming out in hard puffs, her eyes are dilated and black, putting her arousal on display. He loves it, but he will not cave to this woman. His jealousy and uncertainty won't let him.

"Just like you wanted Tom a month ago?" The words are laced with venom, like they always seem to become every time he mentions that goddamn name. But he doesn't care right now.

He watches her flinch under his intense stare and his harsh words. He waits for her to answer, pinning her to her place with his eyes. He watches her fidget and squirm. He knows he should feel bad, but he doesn't.

Her eyes narrow in anger. Her mouth open and close a few times, like she can't believe he just said what he did. "You really are a bastard sometimes. You're afraid of whatever you're feeling right now, so you throw Tom in my face. What do you want me to say? Yes, I slept with Tom. No, I didn't really want him, I just needed to feel something. I've been numb for so long and I stupidly thought that sleeping with Tom, Jacob, whatever the hell his name is, would make me feel something. Anything. And it did. I felt disgust. In fact, I felt so much disgust that when we arrived at the first safe house I scrubbed my skin raw just to get him of" She raises her voice with each word, but whispers the last sentence, timid and scared.

Her anger is welcomed like an old friend. He not only loves watching her when she's angry, he loves how it manages to push everything into focus. He loves how her anger manages to squash everything he's feeling so he can concentrate on their argument and not her body or her smell or how much he wants her.

"And now your what? You're feeling numb again and looking for someone to make you feel something? And you come to me because I'm available?" He doesn't raise his voice or yell like her, he talks calmly, but harshly. Yelling never works. "I can tell you right now that it won't happen. I will not be the man you use for that experiment. There is plenty of men available around here, go find one of them" He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. The thought of her ever being with another man leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

She narrows her eyes in anger, glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill, he would have been ten feet under right now. He expects another onslaught of words, but suddenly her furrowed brows fall back to their original position and her face morphs into pain. He hates himself a little bit more right now and has to strangle the impulse to offer her comfort. Instead he just watches as her lip start to quiver, as tears pools in her eyes. He watches her stalk out of the room. Leaving him to stare at her vacant spot long after she's gone.

He grabs his glass again, downs the last of the amber liquid before hurling it at a wall, smashing it into thousand pieces. He watches as the broken pieces fall to the floor and imagines that's how his heart must look right now. It sure feels like that. Broken into tiny pieces, to destroyed to be put together again.

He's got no one else to blame but him self, but the thought of another man so much as touching her shatters him. But he can't fold. He doesn't want to be a replacement for Tom whom apparently was just a booty call. He couldn't imagine having her, tasting her, then for her to throw him away when she's bored and in need of something new.

TBC...

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 **A/N: Thank you for reading! :D Don't hesitate to let me know what you think ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews! Love, love, love them! So please keep them coming! :D**

 **Here is another chapter, this time through Lizzie's eyes, hopefully I didn't mess it up too much.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Oh, yeah. Almost forgot. They are not mine ;)**

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She stalks away until she's at the top of the stairs. There she sits, her elbows on her knees and her face cradled safely in her hands. She watches as a teardrop falls from the tip of her nose to the floor board beneath her feet. Then another one follows, then another one. She doesn't sob, just cries silently.

She hears the unmistakable sound of a glass shattering and then silence. Complete and utter silence. No footsteps, no creaking of floor boards, no rustling of paper. Nothing. She almost hates him a little for making her feel worse than she already was. She knows sleeping with Tom was a mistake, a horrible mistake. He didn't need to rub it in her face, and basically call her a whore. And it hurt like a bitch slap across the face, but the true punch to the stomach was the look on his face. Oh, my god, his face. He looked at her with so much disgust and so much anger, like she was a broken toy and he couldn't stand to be around her one more minute.

Maybe she should go out like he suggested? Not to sleep with anyone, no. No matter how angry she was right now, she would never do that. Just because she doesn't want to prove him right. And besides, that would only make things worse between them. But some change of scenery might be good for her, be surrounded by other people, having the possibility to talk to someone else. Someone who doesn't view her as broken. Someone who doesn't have to restrain himself to keep his vicious words to himself. Someone who doesn't hate her.

She'll dress up in one of those beautiful dresses hanging in her closet. She'll put on some makeup, some nice shoes, make her self feel beautiful. Then she'll go out, meet some guy, let him by her drinks, have a good conversation, let him tell her how beautiful she is, let him stroke her ego who's terribly bruised right now. Nothing bruises an ego more than when a man you actually care about spits your past in your face. And with so much venom.

She dries her tears, rises and walks to her room. Determined to have a good evening, even if she wishes Red was the man she really got to spend it with. But there is no scenario where she walks down those stairs and begs for forgiveness for something he has no right to be angry about. It's not like she cheated on him with Tom, she's a single woman. And as far as she's concerned she can very well sleep with whomever she god damn pleases. He has no right to act jealous and betrayed. She will not beg for his attention when he clearly doesn't want her. Or he said he did, but that he won't go there. At least that's what she gathered by his speech.

She picks out a outfit; a plain, black dress. She tried it on the other day, and it might look plain on the hanger, but she knows it looks beautiful when she's got it on. It's a little short for her comfort, the hem stopping shy of her mid thighs, but right now she doesn't care. Besides, it makes her breasts look good, pushing them up a little, and showing of a little cleavage. The material sticks to her like a second skin, showing of every dip and curve of her body in a beautiful way. When she's got it on, the dress certainly doesn't look plain.

She doesn't do much to her hair, loving the way it curls slightly when it just air dries. It gives her hair a slightly wild look, like it can't be tamed, and she loves it. She puts on some mascara and that's all. Trying to be as natural as possible. The natural look never fails to make her look good. Then she starts looking for shoes, she knows she's got someone that will fit perfectly. Some that'll make her seem taller, and make her legs look longer. Some black shoes that's deadly to walk on. She loves them.

She takes one last look in the mirror, inspecting her outfit and make up. She looks different than she usually does when she goes out, but somehow this looks better. Her blonde hair draws attention dressed in all black, but it's a nice contrast. She smiles to her self, imagining the look on Reddington's face when she strides past him dressed like this. He'll surely regret his words, saying she should go out and look for other men.

She takes purse, packs a small handgun, some money and make up before she makes her way downstairs again. She'll walk right past the open entry to the living room, she'll keep her head held high and her chest pushed forward. She'll walk right past like she doesn't care what he thinks of her. Like what he says doesn't matter.

He's not there however, he's not in the living room any more. She panics slightly. Did something happen while she was upstairs? She stops to listen, listening for any sound in the house. She can't hear anything. Maybe he's in the study. The room is far enough away for form the hallway for her not to hear anything if he's in there.

She does a one eighty, turning in the direction of the study but stops abruptly when she sees him standing there, staring at her like a gaping fish. He's speechless. Somehow the notion makes butterflies flutter to life in her belly. She made the almighty concierge of crime speechless. It makes her feel giddy and powerful.

But then his face changes, his eyes narrowing, biting the inside of his cheek, like he just remembered something and it made a bad taste form in his mouth.

"No" He just says, eying her up and down, raking his eyes over every inch of her body. "No" he says again, shaking his head violently.

"No what?" She asks, feigning confusion. She already knows what he's saying no to, but she won't fold. He told her to go out, she's going out. He never told her what to wear, and even if he did, she never would have listened. He doesn't get to decide what she wears.

"You can't wear that" He says, pointing a finger at her, still shaking his head.

"Why? It was in my closet" She looks down at her self for good measure, still feigning confusion. She looks at him again, watches as he struggles to keep his anger in check.

"I very well know it was in your closet, but you can't wear it!" He snaps, his fist clenching, his knuckles turning white. If he was someone else she would have been frightened right now, but she knows Red would never hurt her. Not like that. He'll probably use his words, but never his fists. Not against her.

"Why?" She knows she's riling him up, and she knows he'll lash out at her again, but she can't seem to stop herself.

"Because it makes you look like a wh.." He never gets to finish his sentence, the slap across his face stunning him into silence. Lizzie having closed the little space between them to slap him stands her ground. Inches separating them.

"Don't you dare! You were the one who told me to go out, I'm just following your advice. You were the one who stocked my closet, I'm just using it. You don't get to call me a whore and make me feel bad because I actually listened this time" She's so angry she actually pokes him in the chest every now and then. "And if you didn't want me to wear this dress, you shouldn't have put it in my closet" She finishes, poking him one last time, hard.

He takes a step backwards then, separating them even more. He raises his hands in surrender, before he slumps in on himself, looking completely and utterly broken. She almost feels bad for him. She doesn't exactly like watching him break, but she's to angry to care right now.

"I'm sorry" He whispers, keeping his eyes on the floor before turning around, walking in the direction of the study. He stops after taking a couple of steps, braces one hand on the wall, lets out a heavy sigh, and whispers so quietly she has to strain to hear him.

"Just, please don't take him with you home" The words come out strained and so shattered she has to swallow hard to get past the lump in her throat. Then he starts walking again, leaving her all alone in the hall way, staring at his retreating back, tears threatening to fall.

She's angry and hurt at the same time. Angry that he automatically assumes that she'll go find someone to sleep with, hurt that he thinks so little of her, that she's that kind of woman.

Her feet take a few steps in the direction he disappeared before she stops her self. It doesn't matter if she caves and walks after him, he's determined to keep her at arms length. And she hasn't forgiven him for anything yet. Let him wallow in his misery. It's he who chooses to be there anyway.

She makes her feet move in the other direction. Heading to the door. She'll feel better after a change of scenery and a couple of drinks. Then she'll go home and go to bed. She'll deal with him in the morning after some distance.

With that though she lets the door shut closed behind her.

Now, where's the nearest bar around here?

TBC..

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 **A/N: Thanks for reading :D**

 **Don't hesitate to leave your opinion ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I'm overwhelmed!**

 **Here is the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it ;)  
And I just have to say sorry in advance for any mistakes :)**

 **And, no they are not mine.**

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He hears the front door open and close; that's when he finds his legs again and stalks in to his study, slamming the door behind him before walking over to his desk. He shakes his head to get the image of her out of his head, not wanting to remember how beautiful she looked, beautiful enough to gather the attention of every male within the vicinity. He imagines that they'll flock to her like hungry hyenas, searching for their next meal. He imagines what they'll do to gather her attention, by her drinks, touch her bare shoulder, slide their hand across her arm.

He hits the desk with both fists, making the wood creak against the force. He hates it! Hates the thought of another man so much as looking in her direction. The knuckles of his hands turn white against the pressure of his hand; he's squeezing so tight he's certain he'll draw blood from where his nails keep digging into his palm. He opens them up slowly, showing the half moons left behind by his nails. He stretches his hands, puts both down against the mahogany desk, his palms pressing against it.

Will she go home with one of the men? Will she let him rake his fingers all over her body? Will she let him fuck her? His restraint snaps at the thought, he swipes his hands across the table, pushing everything on it of. The lamp makes the loudest thud when it hits the floor, the papers fly everywhere, making crackling noises in the air before floating silently and landing against the floor with almost no sound at all. The pens scatter, rolling across the hardwood, while the phone only makes a small noise of protest.

Then he grabs hold of the edge of the desk, and flips it. Watches as it falls in slow motion through the air before landing against the floor. It doesn't make much sound, the carped muting the noise, but he still feels the vibrations of the fall through his feet. He's panting like he just ran five miles, his breath coming out ragged and shaky. He can't remember the last time he was this out of control.

He stands there and watches the chaos around him, he can still feel the anger inside him. It's coursing through his veins like fire, boiling his blood. His jaw is clenched together so hard it hurts, and his hands have reverted into fists again. He hates himself for pushing her away, hates himself for loving her, hates that she doesn't even view him like a man, but a monster, hates that she can never love him back. Hates that he wants her, but can't have her.

He wishes it was different, he wishes she would think of him differently, not a monster, but a man. A man who could love her like no one else, a man who could give her everything, a man who would do anything for her. A man she could ultimately love back, but there is no possible way. She's never hinted at that. There has been times where he thought he saw something in her eyes. Awe, hope, a glimmer of affection, but it disappeared as soon as it came, and he always assumed that his mind was playing tricks on him.

* * *

An hour and much conversing with him self, he finally finds her. She's sitting against the bar, talking and smiling to the bartender. He immediately hates the man. He'd rather drip acid in his own eyes than watch her flirting and laughing with another man that is not him. But he doesn't have acid on him, so he settles for watching. He's a sucker for causing himself emotional pain, he knows it. But he cant seem to keep his distance.

The bar is dimly lit, shadows don every corner, making it much easier for him to sit in the dark and keep an eye on her. Because thats the only reason he's here; to keep an eye on her so she doesn't get into trouble. Or In case she needs to run. That's why he's here.

At least, that what he tells himself.

She tilts her head to the side, flipping her hair over her shoulder, showing interest. He balls his fists against his thighs at the action. He doesn't want to see this, but he is genuinely concerned that patrons scattered around the bar is going to figure out who she is. He would hate himself if she made some kind of mistake and got in trouble. Even if isn't the only reason he's here, its one of them.

The bartender lays a hand on her arm, stroking his thumb across her skin. And she lets him. He doesn't know whats worse; that the bartender is allowed to touch her like that and he's not, or that the bartender is young and handsome, and he is old and plumb. He wouldn't stand a chance against a man like that. The bartender is well built with broad shoulders, and muscles that stretches the t-shirt so much it might rip with one wrong move. He's got short cropped blond hair, a handsome face and Red's certain that washboard abs hide beneath his tight shirt. He doesn't stand a chance against a man like that.

Lizzie's laugh brings his focus back on her. She's got her head tipped back, her blond tresses falling graciously against her back. Her face looks like one of pure happiness, and her laughter sounds so heartfelt that he can't suppress the smile that forms on his lips. She looks so lovely like this. The light hitting her in just the right angle, making her look angelic, just like the first time she walked down the stairs at the post office. It makes his heart stutter, just like it did the first time.

She looks absolutely beautiful.

Lizzie takes a sip of her drink and eyes the man as he walks away to tend to some group of women who's giggling and laughing uncontrollably. He watches as she takes a look around, scanning the bar for someone. Like she knows she's being watched. Her eyes are narrowed together and her eyes scan the bar like lasers. He does nothing to hide himself, sure she'll skip his booth anyway because of the darkness. It's next to impossible for her to see him.

He's not wrong, her eyes stop before they ever reach his booth, then she turns back to her drink again. And just like that another man approaches her. His hands balls into fists again. His normally tightly concealed control is slipping, the beast inside craves to be set free. But he won't let it out, he's afraid of what he would do. He would never hurt her, no. But carrying her out on his shoulder doesn't seem like a far fetched idea right now. He's not sure if he can handle another man touching her.

The man smiles politely, leans against the bar on one elbow, and stretches his other hand out to greet her. They shake hands, and she's smiling so brightly ice forms inside his stomach. She used to give him those smiles. Genuine and bright, like she was happy to be around him, talk to him.

The new man, a brown haired one this time, leans down to whisper in her ear. His nose brushing against her hair, his hand sliding up and down her forearm. Then he leans back, gives her a charming smile. He slips a little in his control then, rising on pure instinct, making the table rattle with the force of his rising. He wills himself to sit back down, no matter ho much his instincts keep screaming at him to walk right over there, lay his hand across her shoulder and kiss her head. Just to get everyone to back the hell off. He can't do that. She would have his hide.

Lizzie is the only one that reacts to the sound, turning her head in his direction. He breathes a sigh of relief when the man talks again, snapping her attention back to him. If she catches him here, he'll be a dead man. He's sure of it. He didn't plan on coming here to intervene, just watch out for her, make sure she isn't in any danger.

The brown haired man brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear, telling her something that makes that smile form on her lips again. It shatters him into a thousand pieces just watching the interaction. He wants to be the receiving end of that smile, he wants her attention, he wants her to look at him like she looks at the brown haired man now. Like a man. An attractive man.

He lets out a heavy sigh, feeling defeat etch across his body and mind. He'll never get her like that, never have her attention, never get her to look at him like she wants him. He'll probably never get her to smile like that at him again. And least of all; he'll never get her heart.

He rises, his feet feeling heavier than brick. He feels old, old and defeated. He doesn't feel like watching any more. It's to painful. He's about to head in the direction of the door when he sees her frown. He just knows somethings wrong then. She's looking at the man with so much distaste it makes him freeze mid step. She's shaking her head almost violently, leaning away from him.

Well this isn't good.

The brown haired man thats been occupying her for the last half hour reaches out to touch her again, but this time Lizzie doesn't smile, she flinches, moving more away from him. Thats all the excuse Reddington needs before he moves in their direction.

He takes slow and measured steps, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He always loved the element of surprise. The man sees him first, but he doesn't acknowledge him, eliminating him quickly as a threat to the woman he thinks he'll be going home with tonight.

Over his dead body.

"Come on, no girl dresses like that unless she's looking for a good time" The man says, raking his eyes over her body suggestively.

"Yes they do. Women don't ask for it just because they dress nicely for a night out" Lizzie protest, clearly not impressed with the brown haired mans view of women.

"No. Women only dress like this with one thing in mind; sex" He says proudly. Red just stays quiet, waiting to see what Lizzie will do. He knows she can hold her own. That's not why he walked towards them. He's just there incase the situation escalates.

"Women dress like this to feel nice, not because they're looking for sex. I don't know what your mother taught you, but women are attracted to real men. Gentlemen. Someone who opens doors for you, someone who tells you that you look beautiful, someone who pushes the chair in after you sit down, someone who has eyes for only one woman. Someone who holds your hand and offers comfort. That's whats attractive, not men who view women as sex objects" Her words hit him right in the chest, Tom never did those things for her right? He did. Hopes flares to life. Could she be talking about him? Please let him be so lucky.

"And besides, you're really not my type" She adds as an afterthought. The brown haired man narrows his eyes at her in anger.

"I'm everybody's type. Tall, handsome, nice. If I'm not your type then what the hell is?" He looks so offended, but yet he asks, setting himself up for disappointment.

Lizzie snorts at him "Oh, yeah your just so swoon worthy" She knuckles a little after that, and the brown haired man doesn't seem amused. He looks pissed. Red has to stifle his own smile. She really knows how to push peoples buttons. It makes him love her even more.

"What is your type then, please tell me. I'm dying to know" He clutches his heart for good measure, being overly dramatic. Red has no idea why Lizzie even gave him the time of day. There is absolutely nothing appealing about the man.

"My type is someone older, a man, not a boy. He is a gentleman, always a gentleman. He has a voice so deep and dark it makes my toes curl every time I hear it. He's tall, but not to tall, average. He radiates a power that draws me in like a moth to a flame, and makes a shiver run down my spine. He's kind, caring, but he can also be ruthless. There is something about him that seems untamable, like he's a wild animal ready to pounce, but he withstands because he has control of himself. And he's sexy, my god he's sexy. And he's vulnerable sometimes, and I love it. He's dark and dangerous, and I'm his light. He puts me at the centre of his universe, and that is something any woman can't help but fall for" She pauses there to take a deep breath, and Red has to pinch himself, just to check if this is real. Her dream man sounds like him. The hope flares inside again, and it almost makes him double over. He's her dream man?

"So you see; you're not my type" Lizzie finishes, and rises easily from her chair. She doesn't get to take one step however before the brown haired man takes her a little bit roughly by the arm.

This is his que to step in. He steps behind Lizzie's back, presses himself tightly agains her, laying one arm around her waist, resting his hand possessively on her stomach.  
He feels her stiffen, but then she relaxes, and he knows she knows that its him. He grasps the offending mans wrist tightly in his much larger hand before he yanks it away from Lizzie.

"I believe the woman made it clear that she wasn't going home with you" Red says threateningly, staring the man down. Willing him to just scatter and disappear.

"Who's this? Your father?" He mocks, laughing out loud. Staring at Lizzie, ignoring Red altogether.

"No" Lizzie says before pausing to look over her shoulder, looking directly at him when she utters her next words. "He's my man" Then she lays her hand over his on her stomach, interlaces their fingers and grips his hand tightly. Leaning more firmly against him. He looses his grip on the man, instead focusing on her. Wrapping his other arm around her waist, gripping her tightly to him.

Red is to shocked, so shocked by her words he has to break his stare with the man. This is a dream right? This is a cruel dream like all the others where he's going to wake up alone and with a massive hangover. It has to be. There is no way Lizzie would declare that she's his in the real world.

"Fine, fine. You can have her old man" The brunette says, raising his hands up in surrender. "I wasn't really interested in a who…"

Lizzie interrupts him before he can finish the sentence. "Just a warning; the last man who called me something almost got shot in the balls. He called me a bitch. I honestly cant say what he'll do if you finish that sentence" Lizzie flicks her thump in Reds direction and Red cant seem to suppress the smile that graces his lips at that. And the way she said it so flippantly; like it was an everyday occurrence is laughable.

The brunette has the good graces to look frightened at least, eying Red with weary eyes. He must have found something that told him Lizzie was being truthful, because he backs away after only seconds. Creating distance between them. "Sorry" comes his muttered apology before he scurries away with his tail between his legs.

Red's still holding Lizzie safely in his arms. He loves the feel of her pressed up against him, and he cannot seem to will himself to let her go. He still can't believe that he's her type of man, that she wants him or that she called him hers. He can't remember the last time it felt so good to belong to someone. She can regret it all that she wants, but now that he knows there is a chance between them, he'll never give up. She will be his, no matter how dirty he has to play to get his way.

"You know that the most dangerous thing to do is offer a starving man a bone?" He lowers his head, lining it up to her ear so she can feel his breath on her skin. "He'll take it. Relish it, and never let it go" He continues lowering his voice to the pitch she described to the brown haired man, making her feel the rumble in his chest against her back. He can feel her tremble against him. He smiles, real and genuine. He knows he's got her right where he wants her now.

But he feels like he has to offer her a way out. He'll never want to force her into anything. Not with him. So he asks the most painful question he has ever asked.

"Are you sure you want to offer me a bone?" He pauses there, takes a deep breath.

A question.

"Because I'm starving" He finishes, before he exhales again. His breath fanning hot against her skin, raising goose bumps.

A warning.

TBC..

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 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Don't hesitate to leave your opinions. Love them all, good or bad ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Your reviews make me so happy! Thank you all for your lovely words, truly! :)**

 **Here is another chapter! Hope it lives up to your expectations :P**

 **Oh, yes! Almost forgot; they are not mine.**

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The silence between them stretches, and he can feel his nervousness jump to full force. What does he do if she says no? He would surely break. Break into a thousand pieces, never to be put back together again. If she says no now how are they going to continue to run? They need to rely on one another, need to be able to speak to one another, trust one another. How is he supposed to do that if she says no now? He doesn't think he'll be able to look at her, much less talk to her if the word no comes from her mouth.

A cold lump forms in his stomach, turning his veins to ice, yet he still manages to sweat. What if she actually says yes? Oh, he would surely snap. He's tired of withholding, tired of gong against his impulse to reach out and just kiss her. Hold her. Touch her. She heightens every feeling that hits him, every single one. Anger quickly becomes rage, want becomes a need; need like he needs air. Lust becomes a raging fire that only she can extinguish, and the love he feels becomes so all consuming he doesn't know which way is up. He can't go on fighting against himself any more.

"Yes" He's so immersed in his own head that he nearly misses her answer.

"What?" He needs to hear her answer again. Just one more time.

"Yes" She repeats, her voice shaky and breathless. He has never heard a word more beautiful in his whole life.

He bends his head down towards her neck, lets the tip of his nose skate across her skin, barely touching, all the way up to her ear. Her breath is coming in small puffs, like she cant manage to drag air all the way into her lungs. He loves it, her reaction is turning him on like nothing else.

"Oh, Lizzie. You don't know how happy you just made me" He whispers, feeling her shiver in his arms. "I'm going to ravish your body, make you mine" He sounds breathless and needy, but he can't bring himself to care. He needs her. Now.

He releases her so fast she almost looses her footing, but he steadies her easily, taking her elbow, leading her towards the door. He's walking so fast, almost running. He needs to get her home where he can have her. In a bed. Properly.

They reach the car in no time. He opens her car door and all but pushes her into the passenger side. Then he slams the door shut when she's tucked safely inside the car. He takes a break against the trunk on his way around. Leans against his palms, taking deep and calming breaths. Needing to slow himself down. He's so close to loosing control. He needs to tighten his leash a little. He cannot loose control with her, at least not now. She deserves to have her body relished, worshipped. She deserves lovemaking. Not some rushed romp that doesn't show her how much he truly appreciate her.

Having managed to calmed himself down a little he strides to the drivers side, opens the door and sits himself inside with her. She's so close again, her perfume and presence overwhelming him. The ever present electricity is back with a vengeance, skating across his body, raising the hair on his arms. He's so aware of her, her movements, her warmth. He grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. Needing something to hold onto. Because his control is slipping, little by little.

He manages to navigate them safely to the house in one piece. How he's not sure. She kept staring at him the whole time, biting her lip, eying him appreciatively. Like she was picturing what it would be like to be writhing beneath him. It was all he could do not to just pull over and just take her in the god damn car. But she deserves a bed.

At least the first time.

He has her pinned to the front door as soon as it closes behind her. Both her arms gets pinned above her head , her wrists secured by one of his big hands while the other is pressed against the door by her waist, caging her in. She can't run now. Their eyes are locked on each other. At first she's shocked by the force he uses, but it quickly morphs into lust in a blink of an eye. He loves it. The way her pupils dilate and turns black, the way she's panting like a dog, waiting in anticipation for his next move. Oh, he loves the power he feels knowing that he's the reason she's so turned on right now.

He watches as her lip slip between her teeth again and he raises his hand thats not pinning her to the door and cups her jaw carefully. He tugs at her chin, making her release her lip. He knows she's not made of porcelain, but she's not someone he wants to man handle. She deserves so much more than that. And more than him, but he can't hold back any longer. Not when she wants him too.

"You deserve so much better, sweetheart" His voice comes out sounding sad, and he feels sad. Sad for her because she's settling for him. "But I'm selfish. And the thought of another man so much as looking in your direction drives me crazy. There isn't a world that exists where you being with someone else would be okay with me" He pauses there, lets the words sink in, watches for any form of doubt, but all he can see is awe, lust, and something that looks so much like love, but he doesn't dare hope for it. "I don't just want you, I need you." He continues, feeling entirely to vulnerable for his liking, but she needs to understand the seriousness of this. Because this is deadly serious to him. If they go down this road now, there will be no turning back for him.

He tells her so. Swallowing past the lump forming in his throat at the immense power he lays in her hands "And if we go down this road there will be no going back. Not for me. I can never un-have you. The last line in the sand will forever be gone" He's staring at her so intently, but she's to hard to read right now. The scale could tip either way.

The never ending silence stretches between them again, wraps itself around them like a blanket. She just keeps staring, tilts her head to one side, studying him. His nervousness comes back with a vengeance again right along with his uncertainty. Did he push to far? Reveal to much? He wouldn't have done it any other way. She needed to hear the truth. But the anticipation is killing him

"I want you t-" She never gets to finish, his mouth crashing against hers with full force. He doesn't need more than that. That she wants him is more than enough. He'll take what he can get.

He kisses her like his life depended on it, like she is oxygen and he can't breathe. He kisses her like he has no control. He releases her wrists and buries his hand in her hair, holding her to him, never wanting to break the kiss. He can't get enough, he will never get enough. He tugs her bottom lip between his teeth, earning him a moan of pleasure. Oh, how he loves that sound.

He plunges his tongue inside her mouth then, twirls it around inside her mouth, searching, learning every inch of her mouth, stores it away in his memory. Her hands take a hold of the lapels of his shirt, dragging him closer until he's pressed so tightly to her, air couldn't even flow between them. But it's not close enough. He will never be close enough. He grabs onto her left leg and rises it, laying it to rest on his waist, giving him space to step between her legs.

Her tongue twirls around his in her mouth, battling with his for dominance. Kissing Lizzie is elating, it's like tasting all your favorite ice cream flavors rolled up into one. She tastes like redemption, a second chance. It's freeing and frightening all at once. He can literally taste his second chance at life, and it feels freeing because he knows he doesn't have to search anymore, and frightening because he doesn't know how long he'll have her.

He eases back a little, kissing a trail across her jaw and down her neck, all the way down to where her neck meets her shoulder. There he bites, just like she did to him not to long ago. She lets out a small whimper of surprise, but then she moans as he soothes it over with his tongue. He needs to mark her, as many ways as possible. It's a craving he cannot seem to curb. So he kisses his way up her throat again, stopping in the middle, where the skin is thin and sensitive. He takes her skin between his lips and sucks. He sucks until he is sure there will be a bruise left behind. Then he licks his way up to her ear, takes her lobe between his teeth, nibbles on it.

Lizzie keeps panting and moaning, telling him he found a goldmine of weak spots. He loves it. He leaves open mouthed kisses down to where her jaw bone ends. Kisses behind it and all the way to the back of her ear. Her hands creep up to his shoulders, pushing at his suit jacket. He maneuvers his arms out of it and hears it land on the floor. He really doesn't care about his clothes right now. Then she attacks his vest, struggling to release the buttons from the holes. The vest soon follows the jacket. Then her hands slides down his stomach, grips his shirt and tugs until its released from his pants. She starts fumbling with his buttons, her fingers shaky and unsteady.

"To many clothes, and to many buttons" she mutters and he knuckles against her skin.

The knuckle dies in his throat however when she suddenly yanks, sending buttons flying everywhere, his shirt hanging open at the front. She touches his skin then, laying her palms flat against his stomach, sliding them up to his chest, tugs at his chest hair before sliding her palms up towards his shoulders. He's tense now. Waiting for her hands to glide over his shoulders and discovering the scars. He completely forgot about them.

"Red?" She asks when she notice how rigid he is. She sounds uncertain.

He lets out a heavy sigh, knowing she'll back away with repulsion when she sees them. She'll regret everything. He doesn't know which is worse right now. But he needs to show her, she needs to know how hideous he really is.

He takes a step back then, backing away from her, to give her room to run when she finally sees. He wishes for a few seconds that she was someone else, someone he could keep his shirt on with. Like one of those many women before her.

She looks so hurt and confused and frightened. And he almost wishes she could stay that way, because hurt, confusion and fright he can deal with and easily erase, but he cannot bear the thought of seeing repulsion in her eyes, he can't bear for her to shy away from him with a look of disgust on her face.

He turns around, turning his back to her, this way she can react without him watching, and he can show without seeing her beautiful face contort into revulsion. He removes his cufflinks, his movements slow, trying to buy himself more time before everything changes. With the cuffs removed he takes the shirt of in one motion, standing before her in nothing but his shoes and trousers. Clutching his shirt tightly in his hands.

He hears her gasp then, and he closes his eyes in pain. He'll loose her before he even had her. His shoulders slump in defeat. He'll never have her. He'll never kiss her again. He's certain he'll never be allowed to touch her ever again. He'll probably never even see her after this.

At least he has his memories.

He doesn't know how long he stands there, he hasn't heard her footsteps yet, but he doesn't take it as a good sign. Maybe she's too shocked to move, to revolted to even react more. He bows his head more, feeling bonelessly tired. So, so tired. He will never win, will he?

"I'm sorry" He swallows past the lump in his throat. He's not sure why he's apologizing. For not being perfect? For not being less hideous? For ever thinking she would want a monster like him? For everything maybe? He just feels the need to apologize. "I'll just go" He whispers, hoarsely, trying hard not to break in front of her.

He goes to take a step when her voice stops him dead in his tracks. "No!" She almost shouts, panicked and frantic. He thought she would have wanted him to leave Why not? Is she enjoying watching him like this? Exposed and vulnerable? Maybe she wants another second to look at the beast.

"Don't go" She lowers her voice this time, not sounding so panicked but rather pained. He just stands there, giving her exactly what she wants, because he doesn't know any other way. If she wants to se him shatter, who is him to deny her. He doesn't have anything to loose if he doesn't have her anyway. Maybe some dignity, but he can't bring himself to care about it right now. She can watch it all for what he cares. Nothing matters anymore anyway. Not without her.

"Please turn around" The words comes out as a sob and he yields without question. Turns in her direction like the submissive that he is to her every command.

He keeps his eyes on the ground, not wanting to look at her. He cant bear it. He hears her footsteps long before her shoes comes into view. He just stands there, still as a statue, staring at the floor like it holds the answers to everything in the universe. He stands still when her hands reaches out to touch him. He want's to move away, so bad. He doesn't want her pity. He wants her love, always her love. The hand seems to be moving in slow motion, drawing nearer and nearer by the second, yet he just stands still. He doesn't move a muscle, afraid she'll recoil.

Her hand meets his chest then, right above his heart. She moves it slowly, dragging it across his chest, up his collar, his throat. Then she cups his face, tilts it towards her so she can se his face. He leans into the touch, searching for the warmth he craves right now, and follows her hand until he's looking right into her eyes.

There are tears streaming down her face, rolling silently against her cheeks before they reach her chin. From there they drop down to her chest and disappearing in her cleavage, and beneath her dress. He doesn't want or deserve her tears. She's not supposed to be crying for him.

She doesn't say anything, just releases him and takes a step back again. She reaches for the zipper of her dress, unzips it, and lets it fall to the floor, pooling around her legs. She isn't wearing any bra, and he takes his time to study her body. She's so beautiful his breath hitches at the sight of her. She's flawless, her incredibly long legs that seem even longer in heels. The way her hips gives a nice curve to her body, the way her taunt stomach clenches under his intense stare. Her round tits looks like they could fit his palm perfectly. And the way her nipples tightens to small buds when the cold air hits her body is like watching beauty bloom to life. And of corse; her beautiful face. She is absolutely marvelous. And he's hard as a rock, straining against his pants. He almost feels ashamed for it. He shouldn't be allowed to look upon such beauty.

She watches him watch her before toeing of her shoes, stepping out of them and her dress. She walks back to him then, her steps slow and measured like she's approaching a wild animal. She presses her self against him, wraps her hands around him, hugging him tightly. Lays her head on his chest, right over his heart that is thudding wildly against his ribs, trying to beat its way out of his chest. Her hands finds his scars on his back. She traces her fingers around the edges, lets her fingers explore the boundaries to where his burn marks ends and his smooth skin begins. She starts at his shoulders, slides one of her fingers on each side, slides them down to his sides, over his ribs, down his back, all the way down to the hem of his pants. Then she slides her fingers together against his lower back, meeting in the middle.

She draws her head back from his chest then, looks up at him. He already knows her question before she asks it. Yes there is more. But he doesn't say anything. Just gives her a tight nod. She releases him then, reaching for his belt buckle. She doesn't move to open it, just holds it, watches him, searching for permission. He nods again. She can watch it all if that's what she wants. He doesn't care anymore; he believes he has lost her anyway.

Her fingers are shaking as they fumble with his belt buckle, trying and failing a few times to get it open, occasionally brushing against his straining member. It takes all he has not to moan. He can't. Too afraid he'll scare her away, because there isn't really anything sexual about her action, she's just satisfying her curiosity, but she is almost naked, and he is a man, so. And he does want her still, even if she doesn't want him anymore.

When she finally gets the belt buckle open, she attacks his button and zipper with the same shaking hands. Still struggling to get everything to open. He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to soften, but with her hands gracing him again and again, he only seems to harden. He bites his lip to keep the sounds at bay, begging to a god he doesn't believe in for mercy and willpower.

The zipper finally gives away, and he takes a step back then, turning around again. He drops his pants in one fluid motion, letting them pool around his ankles. He can keep his boxer on fortunately, the scars only managed to get his back and the backs of his thighs, nothing else.

He hears the balls of her feet against the floor, moving closer and closer to him. He waits in anticipation for her next action. Will she run now? Is now when the disgust will settle across her face? When she's finally seen how marred and scarred his skin really is? Her breath on his neck breaks him out of his musings, she's close. So incredibly close.

"If you thought for one second your scars would make me run you were wrong" She whispers so low he has to strain to hear her. But he does and he feels hope spread around in his chest again.

Then she kisses him. She kisses everywhere. She follows the line her fingers took, starting on the back of his neck, down his right side, across the hem of his boxers, then back up again on the left side. Then she kisses everywhere else on his back. Nothing gets left out. Not even the worst parts. He shudders under her attention, goos bumps spreading like fire across his body. No one besides the doctors has ever touched his back. Not with permission at least. He has always, always kept a shirt on when in company with a woman. And those that has touched him were not his friends.

He feels her drop to her knees then, getting ready to kiss the burn marks on the back of his thighs. "You don't have to do this, sweetheart" He whispers then, sounding timid and vulnerable.

"I know I don't, but I want to" She answers before leaning in. He can feel her breath against his skin, and he braces himself for the touch of her lips.

"Why?" the word slips from his lips before he can stop it.

"I'm kissing them better" She answers simply and he falls a little harder for her then. No one has ever shown him so much care. Realistically he knows the burns won't get better, but his soul will. It heals a little with each touch of her lips against his skin.

She rises after she's kissed the last bit of scar on his thigh and walks around to face him. She looks at him so lovingly he struggles to swallow. It's marvelous to think that this beautiful woman doesn't find his broken and scarred skin revolting. He can't seem to wrap his head around it.

Lizzie steps up to him again, stands on the tips of her toes, lays her arms around his shoulders, leans in an kisses him. He doesn't hold himself back then, drags her more roughly to him by the hips and kisses her back. The love he feels makes him feel frantic and wild. He wants her, he needs her. Now.

"I need you" He whispers against her lips and grounds himself against her, showing her how hard he is for her still. Always. She gasps in shock, her eyes snapping open to look at him.

"I really don't know why you are surprised, sweetheart. You are naked" He rakes his eyes over her body "No, wait" He pauses, takes hold of her panties and rips until the flimsy excuse of a underwear tears to shreds in his hands, falling to the floor between his fingers. Lizzie opens her mouth to protest or complain, he doesn't know. He just cuts her of. "Now you're naked" Then he smiles a little, rakes her eyes over her boy again. He will never tire of looking at her. "And your beautiful" He sounds out of breath and hoarse, his straining member twitching against his boxers. "I have to be dead and gone before your body will stop making me hard" He growls, swooping down to crash his lips with hers.

TBC..

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 **A/N: So there it is! Hope you enjoyed yourself, and please, do not hesitate to leave a review to tell me what you think ;)**

 **I am working on the next chapter, hopefully it's finished pretty soon. I am hoping to get it posted in a couple of days.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Okay, so here is the next chapter. Don´t know if you´re still with me or not, but to those that are; enjoy! And thank you for your lovely reviews! Cherish them all!**

 **Disclaimer: They are sadly not mine.**

 **Warning: This chapter is smut, just so you know ;)**

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She kisses him back fiercely, loving the way he feels against her lips. His lips are so soft it feels like she's kissing marshmallows. And she wonders how they can be so soft when they look so lethal. The way he uses them to threaten someone, the way vicious words spills from his lips makes them look so dangerous. Yet as she kisses them, they feel so mellow. She loves them. Loves the contrasts on this man. The way he's an walking contradiction.

He backs her down the hall, pressing his naked chest against hers. She can feel the hair on it as it scrapes against hers. The way his chest hair tickles her soft skin. She feels small against his big and hard body, she feels small and timid, but precious somehow. His hands are still holding her hips, steering her in the right direction, his mouth never leaving hers. Like he cant get enough of her, like he'll loose his reason for being if he stops kissing her right now.

They reach his bedroom in no time, he stops them before the door, pushes her against it roughly, like he can't hold back any more. And she wants it all. She wants him to be rough, to show how unhinged he can really get. She wants him to loose control. She's not made of porcelain, she will not break.

He grabs the back of her thighs then, holists her up. She wraps her legs around his waist on pure instinct, holding onto him for dear life. He grounds himself into her, and she shudders and moans at the feel of him pressed against her dampened core. There is only a thin material separating them, so she can feel everything, the length of him, the girth. He feels big, so incredibly big. He breaks away from the kiss, placing open mouthed kisses along her jaw, up behind her ear, right where he left of before their little break. She grasps at his shoulders, feeling the edges of his scars against her fingertips. She loves them, loves what they stand for. Loves how they show how much he's willing to sacrifice to save her. She felt guilty, still does, for every thing she has ever done and said to him. Every vicious word that she wishes she could take back. She punches the though to the back of her mind, focusing back on the present.

"Are you still with me?" He whispers against her ear, making her shiver. She will never tire of hearing how deep his voice sounds when he's whispering. How it seems to rumble against his chest, how rough it sounds.

"Yes" She sounds needy and breathless, but she doesn't care. She would beg at thousand times just so he could keep showing her the attention he already does.

"We can stop any time" The words sounds pained, like the thought of ever stopping nearly kills him. She believes him too, that she could say stop, and he would, no matter what. But she doesn't want to stop, she never wants to stop.

"Don't stop" She croaks out, grinding her hips against his straining member, hears as he lets out a small gasp of breath at the notion. Oh, how she loves the sounds he makes. They sound like pure pleasure.

He continues then, kissing behind her ear and all the way to the top. Then he licks the shell of her ear and down to her lobe. He takes it between his teeth, nibbles and suckles on it. She has no idea how he seems to know all the spots that make her moan and writhe in pleasure, but somehow he does, and she moans and gasps for breath beneath his attention. He kisses his way back then suddenly, across her jaw again, before meeting her mouth. He takes his time, kissing her with slow and measured kisses, searching, learning her every weak spot. He tugs her bottom lip between his and sucks, releasing it with a pop before doing the same with her upper lip. It feels like he has found every string reaching to her core, and he keeps tugging and pulling, making her wetter and wetter with every pull, kiss or lick from him. She's so turned on she feels like she's sinking to the bottom of an ocean. But somehow she'll gladly drown.

He keeps rocking against her, carefully, slowly, never giving her the friction she really needs, just teasing her to the brink of madness. She whimpers a protest at every loss of contact. She wants him so bad it hurts. Scars and all. He can take her against the fucking door and she wouldn't mind.

She's so lost she misses when he backs her off the door and opens it before stepping through. Never loosing his grip, never faltering, like she weighs as little as a feather. He licks his way down to her collarbone then, pressing just the tip of his tongue against her skin, letting it glide down her throat, all the way to the point where her shoulder meets her neck. There he pauses, on the place he bit, kisses it, licks it, nibbles. Then he continues, licking a path down to her collarbone, placing open mouthed kisses that makes her shiver against him. He shows her so much attention she cant put at coherent thought together any more.

She feels the soft material of the sheets against her back, they are cold and a stark contrast to her warm body. He releases her then, grabs one of her wrists that's still clutching his shoulder, places it on the bed, stretching it over her head. He repeats the action with the other arm, taking his sweet god damn time, placing her on full display on the bed. He does the same with her legs, places them on the mattress, her legs spread apart, leaving her more open. Then he rises, takes a step back and just stares at her. She suppresses the instinct to cover her self, she feels exposed an vulnerable under his intense gaze. He's looking at her like she's a meal and he's starving, just like he said he was. She shivers. He looks predatory, ready to pounce any minute now.

He takes his time to rake his eyes over every inch of her body, staring first at her face, then moving down her neck and shoulders, down each arm and up again. He rakes his gaze over her chest, down her stomach. Then each leg and then he zeroes in on her wet core, watches as it quivers under his stare. She swears it feels like a caress, its like he's touching her with his stare. Then he suddenly and quickly drops his boxers, taking his time to step out of them before he rights himself up again.

She suppresses the urge to look at his cock, instead doing the same to him that he did to her. She takes her time to run her eyes over his body, starting from the top. He looks so sure of himself, a small smirk kissing his lips, but she knows he's nervous by the twitching in his hand thats laying against his thigh. He can try to play nonchalant and give of the air of confidence, but she knows he feels just as exposed as her, if not more. He uses clothes as a shield after all. He takes a deep breath and releases it in a heavy exhale. She takes her sweet time, just like him. Lets her gaze skate over every inch of his body. She sees each and every scar he's gotten over the years. She starts with the little one she gave him, she can't really se it from where she's lying, but she knows where it is. Miraculously his arms are free of scars, and his chest used to be, but now there is a bullet wound almost right under his heart. She wants to rise up and kiss it, but by the look in his eyes, she's not supposed to move.

He has her pinned to the bed with just a stare, staring at her so intently she feels like she's suffocating slightly. She sees the moment for what it is. He's bearing himself to her, showing her everything he is, everything he's got. But he doesn't want her to touch him. She settles for watching the rest of him instead, she'll touch him later, kiss every single scar.

Her eyes slides lower on his stomach and she notices a three inch long line right below his ribs, a knife wound. He's got another one just like it on the other side, like they tried to puncture both his lungs. There are more knife wounds, some in the form of stabbing, some looking more like a slice. There are small burn marks in the form of a cigarette all over him too, placed strategically in a pattern against his sides. There are bigger burns to, like a cigar. And two more bullet wounds, one right below his sternum, and one that looks like it barely grazed his hip bone. She moves down his legs, sees horizontal long marks across his thighs, like a whip. He's got three of those on both of his thighs. He's so scarred and broken she wonders how he got through it all. She would have surely done herself in if some of those wounds hadn't killed her. She can't imagine the torture he must have endured over his life. She want's to cry for him, but holds herself back because she knows he doesn't want her pity. But still; its hard not to feel bad for him.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat and her eyes snap up to his face. He looks pained and uncomfortable, his brows knitted together and he's biting the inside of his lip. The way he always does when something hits to close for comfort. He's shifting his weight from one foot to another, not really noticeable, but she notices. Its another sign of his, he wants to retreat. She knows him well enough by now to feel the shift in him. He wants to hide, but she wont let him.

She rises up on her elbows then, spreads her legs wider as an invitation. She doesn't want him to run, she wants him on her, under her, whatever way he will let her. He takes an uncertain step towards her, his breath hitching, like he cant believe his luck. He looks so relieved, like he thought she would turn him away. Like that would ever happen. She doesn't care about the scars on his body, she cares about him. She wants him, no matter how many scars he has. She want all of him, just the way he is. She can't believe that she can make him self conscious, the great Raymond Reddington self conscious because she got to look at his body. It makes her head swirl. She will never understand the power she has on him. She doesn't want it, but he places it there anyway. And it does make her feel powerful. But she would never use it, not against him.

He takes a step closer then opening his mouth to speak. Closing it again like he changed his mind. She rakes her eyes over his body again, looking at the spot she missed. She lets out a gasp at the sight of him, feeling a tremble run over her body. He's big. Really big. It shouldn't surprise her, but still, the sight of him does. He's still hard as a rock, his cock prodding lightly against his belly. He looks impossibly big and she's afraid he's not going to fit inside her. She licks her lips unconsciously, and Reddington stops walking, standing inches from the bed and her.

She looks up at him then, not sure what to expect when she sees his face. Gone is the uncertainty, replaced with the predator again. His pupils dilate until they are impossibly dark, making the beautiful green color disappear almost completely. He looks like he's ready to pounce any second now.

He closes his eyes then, takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, like he's fighting for control over himself. Doesn't he know that she wants him to snap?

"I need you" He says then, sounding vulnerable and shaky.

"I need you too" She answers, because she does. She needs him like she needs air right now. She's so turned on, by the sight of him, by his vulnerability, by his soft side, by his uncertainty, the whole package.

No sooner than when the last words leaves her lips, he's on her in a flash. Covering her body with his big one. She feels so small beneath him, but instead of feeling intimidated, she feels comfort. She always secretly loved when the man was bigger and broader than herself. He pushes her until she's completely on her back again, pushes her up the bed until she's got the headboard behind her head. He sits back on his calves then, staring down at her. A look of awe, lust and love. She knows he loves her, but she's not sure she dears think to much about it. Afraid she's going to get lost in him. Because she knows his love is bottomless and never-ending, intimidating and all consuming. And she fears she would disappear in him.

"You are breathtakingly beautiful" He says, laying his palms on her ankles, dragging them over her calves, up her thighs. "I could spend my whole life worshipping your body, and you still wouldn't be able to understand how beautiful you are to me" His hands parts her thighs a little, massaging them beneath his palm. "There isn't one inch of you that is not perfect to me" His hands glide up to her waist and up her sides, feeling, touching every inch of skin he can reach.

His hands feels callous and hard against her soft skin. She loves it. The contrast makes her shiver. Those hands have killed, they are ruthless, but whenever they touch her, they feel loving and soft, like she's a god and he's worshipping her, like touching her is one of the greatest gifts he's ever ben granted. His touch feels branding to, like he's making her his with every touch of his hand, like he's trying to imbed himself in her skin. She can't help but moan at the feeling. She wants to be his, wants him to possess her.

"The way your soft skin quivers beneath my palm, the way your skin is so smooth to the touch. The way you let out a shaking breath when I grab your hips " he moves his hands up her stomach then, his fingertips dragging slowly against her skin, up then down. He grabs her hips then, his thumbs pressing into her hip bones. He drags her down the bed, lining her core against his cock. She does let out a shaky breath then. "and come near you with my cock" He twitches against her, making her feel everything. She can feel the way his big member is resting against her pussy that's so wet she almost feels embarrassed.

"You are so wet. Just for me" He marvels out loud, like he cant fathom that she would be this turned on by him. "Only me" He repeats with a growl, dragging her more tightly to him. Twitching against her, making her moan out load. "I'm going to ruin you like you have ruined me" He's still growling. "I'm going to ruin you for other men. You'll never be able to so much as look at another man after I'm done with you" His hands slides over every inch of her body then. Up her quivering stomach, over her chest, her tits. There he stops to pinch her nipples, playing with each peak, before cupping both of them in the palm of his hands. "See how you fit the palm of my hand. Its like you were made for me" He slides his hands up to her throat then, brushes a finger over her carotid, feeling her pulse, feeling how hard her blood is rushing beneath her skin. Then he slides his hands down her shoulders, down her arms. He touches her everywhere, brands her.

He entwines their fingers when he reaches her hands, leans over her again, places their hands over her head so she is stretched out beneath him. Open and exposed once again. Then he kisses her, a bruising kiss. He plunges his tongue inside her mouth, twirls it around, one, two, three times. Then he breaks away to kiss down her throat. "I want to kiss and lick every inch of you. Find every single spot that makes you squirm and moan and whimper" He speaks against her throat and she feels the vibrating rumble of it run through his chest against hers. "I want to taste your skin" He continues kissing then. Down and over her shoulder, placing open mouthed kisses against her skin. He takes one of her arms down then, kissing all the way down to her hand. Kisses the scar on her wrist, licks it with the tip of his tongue. She's getting so far gone in her lust everything feels so heightened. Her mind is in a fog.

He kisses his way up her arm again, places it over her head, and continues over her collarbone and over to the other arm. He's making her squirm and writher beneath him. She searches for friction, trying to rub against him, but he doesn't let her. He just leans his lower body back, out of reach. She lets out a noise of protest then, and Reddington knuckles against her collarbone. That bastard knows exactly what he's doing to her! She scoots more down the bead, bringing her core close to his cock again. She manages to connect them, not the way she really wants, but it's some from of friction, and that's enough for now. He doesn't knuckle this time, this time he sucks in a breath. Shocked and turned on by her action. He rubs himself against her clit, his member coated in her juices by now, slick, warm and wet. He could surely make her come like that. Just a little more pressure and she'll be tipping over the edge.

He kisses his way down to her right breast, licks around it, then all the way up to her peak. He drags his tongue over her nipple, once, twice, three times, then he licks around the areola. She shudders and moans loudly. She's not really the loud type in bed, but all the rules seems to go out the window whenever Red is involved. He flattens his tongue against her nipple then, wetting it completely before taking it between his lips and sucking, hard. She gasps out loud and grips his hands so tight he must surely be hurting by now, but either he doesn't notice or he doesn't care. Then he takes her nipple between his teeth, nibbles, finding the perfect line between pleasure and pain. God that man and his mouth.

He takes his time with her other breast too, showing it equal attention before moving down her stomach. He kisses his way down, breathes against her skin, making her wriggle beneath him. She bites her bottom lip to keep from screaming out lout in frustration. She's going insane with lust, she wants him lower, much lower. But he's got other plans. He licks a circle around her navel, blows on it, watches as goose bumps rises on her skin.

He releases her hands then, rises back on his calves and takes one of her legs, lifting it to his shoulder. He rakes his teeth against her instep, kissing his way to her ankle and up her calve. He kisses her thigh, all the way up to her hip bone, then across her stomach and down the other leg. He gives it equal treatment as the first leg, but this time he licks the inside of her thigh on the way up. He licks from her knee, all the way to the apex of her thighs, then he does the same with the other leg. She's going insane! She needs him now! She's gripping the sheet so hard her knuckles are white, her head is trashing from side to side and she's drawing blood from her lip. She needs him.

"Please" She whispers, it comes out hoarsely and croaked. She doesn't recognize her own voice for a moment.

"Oh, sweetheart. I thought you'd never ask" She feels his smile against the skin of her thigh before he kisses his way up to her core. He stops there, his mouth hovering over her centre, his breath fanning over her sensitive skin. She raises her head to look at him, he isn't staring at her pussy like she thought he would, he's staring at her. She freezes in place, his gaze keeping her captivated. Then he lowers his mouths to her core in slow motion, never breaking his gaze.

The anticipation is killing her, she wants to thrust her hips up to his mouth, but she doesn't dare move, so she keeps her hips still, waiting for him to descend. He buries his face against her core then, roughly, his lips closing around her clit, sucking it into his mouth. And she comes with his name on her lips and her fingernails scraping across his head. She doesn't scream his nickname, his real name. He hums against her in approval. Her legs are shaking and her muscles are clenching, but he doesn't stop, just releases her clit and laps her juices, letting out a moan of pleasure, like its the best he has ever tasted. She would have blushed in embarrassment if it wasn't so damn hot.

He continues to lick her, plunges his tongue inside her, twirling it around, pressing it against her g-spot while his thumb massages her clit. He keeps going all the way through the aftershocks of her orgasm, continues to lick and massage until she feels another orgasm build inside her. Never in her life has she ever come across anyone with a talented tongue as his. He continues working her over, flattens his tongue against her, licking over her slit and up to her clit. He runs the tip of his tongue around it, nearly touching, teasing her endlessly. He plunges one finger inside her, then another one, twisting them into a hook and sliding them against her magic spot. Pumping them in and out of her, making sure to hit the spot with every plunge. She's moaning and begging and twisting beneath him, she doesn't really have control on her own actions anymore. She's so near the brink, just one more push and she's over.

Throws her head down on the pillow, cant manage to watch any more "Please, please" She pants, clutching at his head so hard she's afraid she'll leave marks on his scalp. He hums in answer before flickering his tongue over her clit, and she's falling again. Screaming his name until her voice becomes hoarse and her throat hurts.

He's on her before she can even get her bearings back, entwining their fingers together, lining himself with her opening, pushing the tip of his rock hard cock inside her. It's not enough, it will never be enough. He doesn't press more, just pauses there, making her eyes snap open to look at him. His whole body seems to be shaking with the effort of holding himself back. His face in contorted into pain, his eyes closed shut, his brows together, and his jaw clenched.

She rises her head up, kisses along his jaw, all the way to his mouth. There she kisses his lips, just small pecks to get his attention. His eyes snap open to look at her, he still looks pained from holding himself back, and she doesn't get why he does it.

"Don't hold back" She gives him another peck then. Watches as his eyes widen in shock. What did he think? That she wanted to be treated like glass? "I want it all" She whispers.

No sooner than the words leave her mouth he slams himself inside her with a force that knocks the air out of her lungs and makes a gasp of pleasure and pain escape her mouth. He stills then, looking at her with concern.

"I don't want to hurt you" He whispers, releasing her hands, putting his weight onto his forearms and tries to draw back out. She doesn't let him, throwing her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, clutching onto him for dear life.

"I'm okay, I promise" She tries to reassure him, giving him a small smile.

His girth is stretching her in the most delicious way, she feels so full. So deliciously full. Her walls stretches around him, making room for him. The electricity is there as it has always been, the current flowing between them, building the connection. She knows already that he has ruined her for other men. She will never be able to find someone that manages to touch her soul like him, she will never find someone who can make her tremble like him. It's elating and scary all at once. She feels the need to hide suddenly so she buries her face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. Letting it calm her nerves.

"Look at me" He demands then, making her head snap back.

He kisses her then, hard and demanding, like his life depends on it. He plunges his tongue inside her mouth, never asking for permission, he just takes. She doesn't mind, she gives it to him willingly. Opens her mouth for him, giving him the access the wants, battling for dominance against his tongue.

"I want it all too" He admits.

Then he starts to move, drawing all the way out before slamming himself in again. And again. He pumps into her with a steady but hard pace, letting her feel every delicious inch of him as he draws out, before slamming back into her again. She loves it, the feel of him stretching and taking with a force. She clenches around him, he falters a little, moans out load. Oh, she loves the power she has on him.

It doesn't take long before she's nearing the edge again, she doesn't know how he does it. It's like he knows exactly what gets her going, uses it to his advantage. He keeps his same slow and measured pace, leans back suddenly, grasps her hips with a bruising force, and lifts until only her shoulders and upper back is pressed against the mattress. He never falters, keeps pushing himself inside her. The new angle makes him push harder against her g - spot and she cannot help the load moan that escapes her. Oh, he knows what he's doing alright.

She keeps her eyes on him, never breaking their gaze. He's looking at her so intently, studying her. The slow pace is slowly killing her, she needs more. She's starting to become frantic with need. She grips his arms, the only thing she can reach of him form her place. Her nails scrapes against his skin, hard, marking him. She needs more.

He must have seen the desperation on her face, because one of his hands sneak between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit again, rubbing it in slow circles, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. But she needs more. She's panting hard, one hand clutching the sheet, and the other clutching his forearm, her nails biting into his skin.

"Please" She whimpers out, begging, pleading for mercy.

He must take pity on her, because his thumb starts rubbing faster, faster. Tips her over the edge and suddenly she's falling again, clenching around his cock in a vice grip. Every nerve in her body is singing with the release. She throws her head back and screams his name, some form of his name at least. The releasee ripples across her body, just as intense as the man himself. She tries to keep looking at him, but her eyes clench shut involuntarily. She can hear the blood rushing through her veins, her muscles are shaking, and her inner walls keep clenching around him for dear life.

He keeps his steady rhythm, only faltering once when her orgasm hit. He's watching her with awe and wonder, like he cannot believe what his eyes are seeing. She can't help the blush that creeps across her face, she feels shy under his imploring gaze. She closes her eyes then, trying to hide from him.

"No!" He growls, drawing out and slamming hard into her. She gasps then, her head snapping up to look at him. "Do not hide from me. I love watching you fall apart beneath me. It's the single most beautiful sight I have ever seen. So please don't hide from me" He pushes himself inside her then, stops, covering her body with his again, bracing his weight on his forearms, one hand clutching her chin, tilting it towards him. "I need you to keep your eyes open" He kisses her then, drawing out and slamming inside once again. "I need you to watch what I'm doing to you. Only me" He growls. drawing out and pushing in slowly, keeping up the steady and measured pace.

Oh, she know what he's doing, erasing every other man in her life, making room for only him. Somehow the thought doesn't bother her. Its redundant anyway, there _is_ just him now. There will never be anyone else. She raises hips then, keeping here eyes locked with his while pushing herself against him, wanting to get him to give in and loose his carefully contained control. She needs him to come too, not just her. She wants to feel him come inside her. She wants to watch him too.

"You." He draws all the way out, slams back in, like he can pounce the words into her "Are" Another slam. "Mine" He growls with each word, making him seem more animalistic than ever. He's loosing his control, and she loves it.

"Yes" She answers raising her hips and pushing against him in time with his slams. She knows she's going to be sore tomorrow, but she couldn't care less. Instead it just turns her on. The thought that she can make the great concierge of crime loose control like this is enough to get her going again, climbing towards another orgasm.

No sooner than after the words leave her mouth Reddington completely looses it. He slams into her so hard the headboard smacks against the wall with every thrust into her. He's panting hard and sweat is forming on his skin. She keeps her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands are vowed around his sides, holding onto his shoulders from behind. She's gasping and groaning, loving the sight of him this unhinged.

He looks so determined, so focused and so out of control all at once it makes her shudder against him. She has never seen him like this. It's sexy, its hot. She feels possessed.  
She's climbing again, quickly reaching the point of no return once more. She wants him over the edge with her this time. She wants to feel him spill himself inside her, fill her up. She needs him to follow her over so she leans in to his neck, takes his lobe between her teeth, suckles on it, lets her uneven breath fans his skin. She latches onto his throat, takes his skin between her lips and sucks, marking him. He groans out lout and she does it again, finding a different spot. And then she does it again.

"You are mine" She whispers against his skin. And that is all it takes. He yanks her head down, locks his eyes with hers, and doubles over the edge,

"Lizzie" he growls her name out loud, the most beautiful way she has ever heard her name fall from his lips.

She falls over the edge with him. Feels him pulsing and throbbing inside her, his seed filling her until she cant take anymore, it's so unhinged and beautiful and dark, but she loves it. Loves him, the way he feels inside her, the way he keeps moaning her name like a prayer falling from his lips, riding out his high with small thrusts, emptying himself completely.

He buries his head in her neck then, breaking their gaze, panting against her skin. Never breaking his connection to her body. She loves the way he feels on top of her, loves the weight of him and the feel of him still inside her.

He pulls out then, slowly before rolling onto his back. He drags her towards him, laying her head onto his chest. She feels the way his heart is still pounding against his ribs. His hands wrap themselves around her before he pulls the comforter up and over them. He's still breathless, and so is she. Still shaken up over the way he seemed to touch her soul. She is absolutely rendered speechless, can't seem to form words that fits the moment.

He seems to be right there with her, never saying anything, just holds her tight, his thumb occasionally stroking the skin of her arm lovingly. The great Raymond Reddington is rendered speechless. Somehow she doesn't think that happens often. She smiles against his skin at the thought of being the only one managing to do it. She feels giddy and elated for once, and somehow the future doesn't look so bleak right here in his arms fully sated and satisfied.

She falls asleep like that. Hope springing forth inside her again. She loves this man.

* * *

 **AN: So there it is. Hope you liked it! If so, don´t hesitate to say so. And if you didn´t like it, don´t hesitate so say that either ;) Constructive criticism is welcomed if you have it :)**

 **The next chapter is already under works and will be up in a short time, hopefully ;)**

 **Again, thank you for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So sorry for the long wait! Originally had it all mapped out in my head, but I couldn't seem to get it right so it took a while. It's a long one though, so I hope I'm forgiven.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclamer; Still not mine.**

* * *

He wakes surrounded in warmth. It takes him a second to get his bearings, then it all comes crashing back to him. How he backed her against the door as soon as it closed, how she kissed him like he was oxygen an she was struggling to breathe. How she undressed him, exposed him, then exposed herself. He remembers her mouth on his skin, telling him that she's trying to kiss him better, like her touch could heal. He remembers how her eyes travelled across his scarred skin, remembers the lust and affection shining in her bright blue eyes. He remembers kissing every inch of her skin, how she tasted. He can still feel her lingering on his tongue. He will never get enough.

He remembers how it felt to be inside her, how she fit him like a clove and ho she tightened around him when she came. It felt like he belonged, like he has been a lost soul wandering this earth, and he finally found home. He can't remember a single time it felt like that with another woman. Not with his ex-wife even. He can't ever let her go now, couldn't possibly survive if he were to loose her.

"Please don't regret me" He whispers so timid and softly its barely audible in the quiet room, hoping she will hear his plea through her deep sleep.

She lets out a small sigh and buries herself more tightly to him, her small fingers grasping his hand resting on her stomach. Her back is sticking to his front, her legs are entwined with his, her head on his pillow. She couldn't get more close even if she wanted to. He smiles into her hair then, loving the feeling of waking up with this beautiful creature in his arms. For the first time in many, many years Raymond Reddington doesn't want to leave the bed. He just wants to lie here with her all day, they don't have to do anything, just cuddle.

He gets up anyway, knowing Lizzie is big on breakfast. She told him that even though she rarely gets the time, she loves breakfast. She said she loved the feeling she got whenever the sun shone through the curtains, lighting up the kitchen. Said she loved the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon.

He untangles himself carefully from her body, draping the cover over her to keep her warm. He stands there looking at her. She is beautiful. Truly and utterly beautiful. She burrows her head into the pillow, her hands stretching out in her sleep, like she's searching for him. It almost makes him want to go back in bed with her, hold her until she wakes. But he wants to make her breakfast. He has done it countless times before, but somehow this time it's different. And the thought of him doing something like that for her makes him happy.

He makes his way to the bathroom, takes a shower and dresses himself in his light gray suit with a white shirt. Then he makes his way to the kitchen to start making breakfast. He has just set the plate filled with bacon on the table when he feels her enter the room, the hair on his neck standing. It's like he has a sixth sense when it comes to her.

He casts a look at her over his shoulder, intending to say good morning, but he stops short at the sight of her. She looks beautiful. He rakes his eyes over her body, taking her all in at once. Her hair is tousled and messy from last nights activities and sleep. He feels proud of himself, he did that. She's wearing one of his shirts. Its entirely too big for her small frame, but somehow it looks better on her than on himself. The shirt stops mid thigh, showing off her long smooth legs. Legs that was wrapped around his waist last night while he had his way with her. He swallows audibly at the sight. He shouldn't be this lucky. It shouldn't be allowed for him to be with her.

"God you look beautiful" He breathes, his mouth working on its own accord. "Good morning" He throws out right after. He knows he's gaping and stumbling in his words, but really, it's her fault.

"Good morning" She says nervously, a lovely shade of pink making its way across her face. She wraps her arms around herself, like she's unconscious.

He walks over to her then, tired of waiting for her to move. He cups her face, tilts her face towards his, looking her in the eyes. He knows they probably should talk. Talk about last night and what it means, but he cant bring himself to do it right now. He kisses her instead, plants his lips firmly against hers, revels in the electricity rippling across his skin. She responds immediately, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, tugging his head down and keeping him there. He buries his hand in her hair, tugging, pulling, massaging. His tongue finds a life on its own, licking across her bottom lip for access. She parts her lips willingly, letting his tongue invade her mouth with languid and slow strokes. He wants to savor it. Savor her.

She's the first to break away, laying her head over his beating heart, wrapping her arms around his midsection, hugging him tight. He wraps his arms around her, lays his head on top of hers and revels in her smell. She smells like Lizzie, him and sex. It's wonderful and he loves it.

"Something smells good" She say sniffing the air slightly. He smiles knowingly. Bacon is her weak spot. She told him so their first few weeks on the run.

"I made bacon" As soon as the words leave his mouth she pulls away and gives him a megawatt smile that melts his heart.

"See, I knew there was a reason I kept you around" She says, leaning up on her tip toes to give him a quick peck before practically running to the kitchen table where everything is set up.

He turns around to look at her, she's sitting at the table pouring herself a cup of coffee with a stack of bacon on her plate. He just shakes his head at her antics. If she loves bacon this much he will have to call his associates to stack up every safe house.

He walks toward the table then to join her. He seats himself at the head of the table, with Lizzie on his left. She looks up at him, mouth filled with bacon, and gives him a small smile. She looks like a small child on christmas. He just knuckles at her before filling his plate with food too and start eating along with her.

"So you just keep me around for the bacon, huh?" He asks when she stops eating.

"Yes, basically" She answers with a big smirk. Oh, he loves when she's playful.

"So if I call my associates and say they need to stock up on bacon until we get there, you'll keep me around?" He smirks, just joking really, but he can't help but feel a little bit serious too. He hopes she'll decide to keep him.

"I think I'll keep you. With or without bacon" She got what he meant, and he knows it. He can see it on her face. She has a playful smile, but her eyes. Her eyes are serious. God he loves her.

He leans over to give her a small peck then, just because he can. Then he rises to clear the table, but she stops him, her hand gripping his wrist.

"You cooked, I'll clean" She rises with him, taking the plates from his hands and walking to the sink to wash.

He watches hypnotized as her hips sway with every step she makes. It takes him a while, but he does notice one thing as she walks away; he cant se the outlining of underwear. He's on her before he even registers that he's moving. He wraps his arms around her from behind, splaying both hands across her stomach, right where the panty line should be. He can't feel it. A low rumble in his chest comes forth at that.

"You're not wearing anything underneath?" He breathes hard against her neck, sliding one of his hands underneath his shirt, up her stomach to cup one breast. No bra either.

"No" He rolls her nipple between his forefinger and thumb, making her answer sound breathless.

"I like it. You can wear my shirt like that any time" He smiles against her skin. His other hand, resting on her stomach, slides down the outside of her thigh, feeling her muscles quiver beneath his palm. He nudges her legs a little and she parts them immediately. He replaces his palm with his fingers, slides them up her inner thigh, a featherlight touch. She shivers against him and he smiles into her shoulder.

He nudges the collar of his shirt out of the way, revealing her delicate skin so he can place open mouthed kisses there. His left hand, rolling her nipple between his fingers, switches breast to give the other one the same treatment. His hand on her thigh slides from right above her knee, and all the way up to the junction of her thighs, then he stops and draws it back down.

"Red" Her voice comes out frustrated and warning, yet he doesn't relent his torture.

"You know, I've had this dream for the longest I can remember. I wake up in the middle of the night, wander to the kitchen to get something to drink. Guess who's there?" He pauses then, removes the hand on her thigh to start unbuttoning the shirt. "You. You're rummaging through our freezer, looking for something cold on the incredibly warm night" He graces her skin with each button he frees. "You're wearing nothing but a shirt, just like now" He kisses his way up to the shell of her ear, hovers there so she can feel his warm breath on her skin. "You don't notice me so I take my time to study you. Your legs seem to go on forever, your hair is tousled, and just like today, I can't see a panty line beneath the thin fabric of the shirt. It drives me insane" He frees the last button, steps back and slides the shirt of her shoulders and watches as it pools around her feet before he plants his front against her back again.

"I manage to quell a growl at the sight of you so I can keep watching" He splays his hands under her navel again, his fingertips just shy of touching her where he really wants. "I watch as you unbutton your shirt, completely unaware that I'm watching" He slides one hand down then to cup her mound. Lizzie lets out a little moan at that and he twitches against his trousers. "When the last button is free, you drop your shirt, giving me the perfect view of your perfect ass and back" He rubs himself against her then, his covered, hard member sliding against the smooth skin of her ass. "I'm frozen to my spot, I can't move, and I cant look away. It's like you're casting a spell on me, and I'm helpless against your powers" He finds her clit then, starts rubbing slow circles around it. Lizzie is breathing harder and faster, trying to grind herself more firmly against his hand. He stops then and she whimpers. Then he starts again, sliding his his finger down her slit to her opening. He doesn't press inside, he just hovers there, driving her insane "Then you reach into the freezer and take out an ice cube. And I actually think for a second that you're going to make a glass of ice water." He chuckles slightly, his chest vibrating against her back.

"Imagine my surprise when you place the ice cube against your neck and moan" He plunges his finger inside her then, pumping it in and out, earning himself that aforementioned moan. "Just like that" His voice comes out hoarse and ragged. His beast is swimming against the surface. He wants her. "You slide the ice cube everywhere you can reach, testing the restrain I have on myself. I want so bad to reach out and touch you, but I can't bring myself to do it, frightened that you'll reject me" He slides his other hand up to her breast again, rolling and pinching her nipple while he rakes his teeth against the skin of her shoulder. "So I watch from the shadows like I always do, unnoticed. It's only when you slide that ice cube down over your breast that I cant hold back any longer. I groan out loud. And you jump. Then you spin around to face me, completely forgetting that you're naked" He pauses there to lick on one of the bruises he left on her last night, he loves them and by the way she shudders against him when he does it, so does she. "I'm granted the sight of your naked body, and I though that it would be the most enchanting thing I'd ever get to see in my life, but I realize now that my imagination is nothing compared to the real thing. You are so beautiful, sweetheart" He pushes another finger inside her then, revels in the way her walls stretch around his fingers. She's so tight and wet he doesn't know how he's managing to hold himself together.

"You try yo cover yourself up, hide. You're not very successful so you eventually quit trying and let your arms fall to your sides. Then you just stare at me" He switches breast then, needing to take a small pause from talking. Her noises, her scent, her grinding against him is quickly becoming too much for him to handle if he doesn't get a small hold on himself. "I don't know who makes the first move, but before either of us can seem to think" He stops again then, releases her, spins her around in his arms and kisses her. Then he hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and her arms around his neck, her fingernails raking across the back of his skull.

He walks her over to the kitchen island, places her there against the marble counter with him between her legs. He breaks away from the kiss then, panting "You're sitting on the counter with my head between your legs" He whispers against her lips and small shiver rakes up her spine. "And you taste heavenly against my tongue. At least I thought it was heaven until I actually got to taste you last night" He rumbles before kissing her again.

Lizzie's hands starts working on the buttons on his vest, freeing them carefully one at a time. She slides her hands against his shoulders, pushing the piece of clothing of before attaching his shirt in earnest. She tugs it out of his pants before starting on the buttons. He just keeps kissing her, down her throat, over her collarbone. It doesn't take long before she gets inpatient and just rips it straight of, buttons flying everywhere.

He knuckles against her skin "What is it with you and ripping my shirts?"

"To many buttons" She pants, sliding his shirt of his shoulders before her hands start skating across his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Should I start wearing stripper shirts, then? Those made for ripping of?" He jokes leaning back to look at her.

"Well, I'd prefer if you didn't wear any at all" She smirks, leaning forward to catch his lips. "I love your body" She says before tugging his bottom lip between her lips, her teeth scraping against his soft skin, her hands sliding across to his back to touch his scars.

He captures her lips in a bruising kiss then, plunging his tongue inside her mouth to battle with hers. He didn't think his heart could swell more for her, apparently he was wrong. She heals his broken soul without even knowing. The fact that she loves his body is beyond him. He didn't think it was possible for such a beauty to be even remotely attracted to him, but here she is, touching him, kissing him, saying she loves his scarred and beaten body. He doesn't know what he did in his life to deserve this, but my god he is glad that he did it.

He makes a path down her throat and along her collarbone again before starting down to her breasts. Her nipples are hard as rocks and he takes one into his mouth and sucks while his left hand skates up to the other, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. Lizzie gasps, grabs hold of his head, presses it more against her chest. He releases her nipple with a pop, licking around the areola before kissing his way across to the other breast and giving it the same attention.

He nibbles his way up her collarbone, up her throat, across her jaw before finding her mouth again. One of his hands slides up and down against the inside of her thigh. Occasionally touching her where she want it the most. She whimpers every single time he doesn't stop to give her the attention she needs. He takes his time kissing her, driving her insane. He flattens his tongue against her jaw then and licks all the way down to her belly button. From there he licks his way over to her right hip, nibbles on it, making her moan in pleasure. He does the same with her other hip before placing open mouthed, hot kisses down her left thigh, all the way down to her knee. Then he kisses his way up again on the inside, all the way to her dripping pussy. He stops to look at it, her juices dripping to the counter. He all but comes in his pants at the sight. He wants to taste her again, but he restrains himself, kissing down the other thigh to the knee, then up again before stopping to look at her quivering sex.

She's clutching the edge of the counter, her knuckles white and her breathing is coming out in ragged puffs. He bends down more at the waist then, places one leg after the other over his shoulders, tilting her slightly backwards. Lizzie places her hands behind her then for leverage, looking at him intently as he leans his head forward and flickers his tongue against her clit, once, twice, three times. She whimpers and shakes with every flicker of his tongue, and he loves it. And the fact that she's looking at him makes it all the more erotic. He's so hard he has to use every ounce of self control to not spill his seed all over himself. He wants to come inside her.

He flattens his tongue again, places it against her opening and licks up her slit until he reaches her clit. He takes her bundle of nerves between his lips, and hums. This makes her react in a hurry, her legs twitching against his shoulders once before she wraps them around his neck, locking him against her sex. She liked that. He does it again, relishes in the breathless moan and the tightening of her legs. He licks his way down to her opening again where he plunges his tongue deep inside her while one of his hands sneak up to rub his thumb against her clit. He sets an lazy rhythm on both his tongue and his thumb, loving the way her muscles tremble beneath him. He manages to grace her g-spot a few times before he moves upwards again.

He uses one hand to spread her lips apart, exposing her delicate clit just the way he wants it. He lets the fingers of his left hand stroke up and down the inside of her thigh, touching but barely. Then he blows on her bundle of nerves, watches as she quivers. Her head is thrown back, her hair dangling from her head and her mouth open. He just stares at her, waiting for her to look at him again.

Her head snap back and her eyes find his when she realizes he isn't going to continue anytime soon. Its only when he has her eyes on him that he lowers his mouth again, packs his teeth in under his lips, and takes her clit between them and squeezes it between his lips. When he hears her moan of pleasure he releases her and uses his tongue again. Drawing lazy circles around her clit a few times, riling her up and closer to the edge. Then when he knows she's right at the tipping point, he lets his tongue muscles loose, licking across her clit with full force.

"Raymond" Comes her pleasured scream, making even his body shudder. Oh how he loves to hear her scream his name. She slams her balled hands against the counter and her legs tighten so much he's afraid she's going to choke him for a second. The backs of her heels dig into his back and the muscles of her thighs are trembling. He plunges two finger inside her just as her walls start to clench, pumping them in and out of her while she rides out her orgasm.

The way she comes is breathtakingly beautiful and he knows he will never tire of it. He will never tire of hearing her scream his name, not his nickname, his full name. He will never tire of feeling her walls contract around him, or hear her ragged pants after she lands. He cant get enough.

Her legs fall from his shoulders, hanging limply by each side of him. He kisses his way up her body again, finding her mouth in a slow and measured pace. He needs her, wants her. He has to have her, right now. He wraps his arms around her again, lifts until she's off the counter and walks her over to the kitchen table. He swipes his arm across the table, flinging everything on it to the floor with a crash. Then he sits her on the table.

He massages her thighs clutching around his waist while she places lazy kisses against his jaw, her hands fumbling with his buckle. Her hands are shaking and her breath is coming out in pants still. It hits him every time when he sees her reaction. He marvels at the fact that he does this to her. Not that he has ever doubted his ability to please women, but with her everything is different.

He's painfully hard against his slacks and his perfect control is slipping more and more as the seconds tick by. She finally manages to get his belt and button on his trousers undone. She looks up at him then, slides the zipper down carefully, slowly, her knuckles brushing against the underside of his heavy erection. She's going to kill him, he's sure of it.

She releases his pants then, watch as they slide against his skin before pooling around his ankles. Her hand grabs hold of him through his boxers, rubs up and down against him, making him groan out loud. She watches her action with a face full of wonder and lust, her tongue sliding across her lips. He can't take this right now. It's to much. Looking at her face, feeling her hand rubbing him in all the right places, it's just to much.

"Lizzie, please" He begs, her eyes snapping up to his.

She leans forward then, to kiss him, sliding her delicate hand beneath the hem of his boxers, touching him without any barriers. She swallows his loud moan that comes then. He thrusts himself into her hand, loves the way her smooth fingers tightens their hold on him. He knows she could easily make him come like this, but he wants to be inside her, wants to make her his again.

He shoves his boxer down then, letting it pool around his ankles with his pants, and pushes her carefully down against the table, making her release him. He lines himself up with her opening quickly, locking his gaze with hers as he pushes himself inside. They groan in unison when he's fully inside her, her walls clenching around him. God she's tight. He will never tire of this feeling. Feeling her walls tighten around him has got to be the single most delicious feeling in the entire world. He feels so connected to her, like he's touching her soul, he feels safe, accepted, loved.

He leans down to kiss her, his lips hovering above hers, inches apart. "You" He pecks her lips. "Are" Peck. "Mine" He plunges his tongue inside her mouth then, starting to move his hips in a slow rhythm.

"Yes" She whispers against him then, and he completely looses it.

He leans up again, righting his back before taking hold on her hips and pummeling himself in and out of her with full force. Her hands grip the sides of the table to get a hold of something. Her hips move in synch with his, pushing downwards every time he thrusts upwards. It doesn't take long before he feels himself nearing the edge. He needs to make her come first, always her first.

He brings one of his hands between her legs, his thumb finding her clit. He looks down then, and groans out in pleasure. The sight that greets him is so erotic her doesn't know what to do with himself. Watching his length slide in and out of her, glistening with her juices is more than he can handle. He comes like lightning, toppling over the edge and crashing hard against the ground, spilling himself inside her, a loud roar rippling from his lungs. His orgasm triggers hers, and she crashes with him, moaning his name over and over like a prayer.

He stills inside her before he leans over her, leaning on his forearms so not to crush her with his weight. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, placing sloppy and erratic kisses on every inch of skin he can reach, his breathing ragged and hard. Just like hers.

"You have completely and utterly ruined me" His whisper comes out harsh and uneven.

"Good, because I think you just ruined me" She answers with a kiss to his temple.

* * *

Clean again, fed and utterly satisfied after a wonderful morning with Lizzie, he stands in the study talking to Dembe about meeting up to plan their next attack while trying to tidy up the chaos he left yesterday. He has managed to tilt the desk back to its original place. The papers are still a mess, but at least they lie on the desk now instead of clattered around on the floor.

"So there is nothing new to report other than that Ressler is currently looking in a completely different country?" He bends his head under the desk, searching to see if he missed something when Dembe start to speak.

"She called him" He knows exactly what Dembe is talking about and he tries to straighten himself, needing to stand for this conversation. He forgets where his head currently is, and bumps the back of his head in the mahogany desk, making a small grunt of pain escape his lips.

"You okay?" Dembe ask, never being one to miss anything.

"When?" He ignores the question, takes his time to bring his head from under the desk this time before he straightens up. He rakes his fingers over the back of his head to feel the damage, nothing major. He'll probably have a tiny bump, nothing to be concerned about.

"Yesterday morning" Dembe's answer makes him grip the edge of the desk, turning his knuckles white. She called Tom yesterday morning? Why?

"Thank you" He says between clenched teeth. Dembe didn't do anything wrong, he's just reporting back to him. He doesn't deserve his anger.

"Do you want me to continue keeping an eye on the situation?"

"Yes" He snaps the phone shut then, throwing the offending object on the desk. He feels like a fool. A fool for believing she would actually hold her promise this time and keep away from Tom. A fool for believing her when she said she wanted him. Last night and this morning seemed too good to be true. Maybe it really was? He just doesn't understand what she's going to gain with this. Is it some plan between her and Tom? He couldn't imagine Tom ever being on board with that so he shakes the thought as soon as it enters. Did she start this out of curiosity? If she did that, why mix feelings into it? He cant really imagine her to be so cruel to actually toy with his emotions if she just did it because she was curious. Lizzie is many things, but cruel isn't one of them.

He starts pacing back and forth, trying to think of her reason for calling Tom and then jump into bed with him. Is he some sort of replacement while she waits for an opportunity to run back to Tom? If she wants to be with Tom he wont stop her. He won't to force her to stay with him if she really doesn't want to.

He wonders how he should proceed with this information. Should he pretend to be clueless and try to savor her for as long as he has her? Or should he tell that he knows, and risk never holding her again, never kiss her perfect lips, never make love to her again. He could be Tom's replacement until she leaves, he doesn't particularly like the thought, but he could manage it. It would hurt like a bitch to have her then loose her, but at least he would have her for a little while, instead of just one night. One night is not nearly enough. He could pretend to not know and carry on with her like before, try and make her forget all about Tom. He cringes at the thought. He doesn't want to be a stand in for Tom, but the thought of never touching her again, never waking up to the warmth of her, never getting to feel her hair tickle his nose in the morning, never smelling her as she's fresh out of the shower. It nearly kills him. But he'd rather be dead inside than to be a stand in for that man.

"What did Dembe say?" Her voice breaks him out of his musings, his back going rigid. He takes his time to pour himself a glass of scotch before throwing it back, gulping it all down in one swallow. He revels in the burn as it slides down his throat. Then he pours himself another one.

"He had nothing new to report" He makes his decision then, he won't tell her, and he won't be her stand in. He will just pretend last night meant nothing to him and that it can never happen again.

"But we are going to meet him at our next stop" He turns around with a false smile on his face. It nearly hurts to watch her. She's leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest looking as beautiful as ever.

She's dressed in her usual attire, dress pants and a shirt. A red one. Of corse it had to be a red one. Her hair is curling against her shoulders, still slightly damp from the shower they shared less than half an hour ago where she did delicious things to him. He swallows audibly, struggling to keep his perfect mask in place.

She pushes herself of the frame and starts walking towards him, a small smile on her face. She walks at a leisured pace, never breaking her gaze away from him. She looks predatory, ready to pounce on him, and normally he would have enjoyed it, but not now, not today. He cant remember the last time he was this frightened. He is frightened because if she kisses him, he'll cave, hell, he'll probably cave as soon as she touches him. He can't let that happen.

He shifts slightly on his feet and takes a tiny step backwards, backing himself into the table with the decanter and glasses. She frowns then, not understanding what's happening right now. He must give something away then because she suddenly stops, standing a just a few steps away from him. He sees when realization hits, it's like a switch gets flipped. Her eyes dim slightly, turning sad, and god he hates himself for hurting her, but he's hurting too. So god damn much.

"Okay, what has happened now?" She sighs, her hands rising slightly from her sides before dropping back against her thighs with a small smack.

He lets out a cheerful knuckle, a fake one. "Nothing has happened, sweetheart" The word sweetheart taste bad coming from his lips. He softens his posture and face, trying to seem gentle and loving even though his insides are turning in pain. "We need to pack, and if you touch me right now packing will be the last thing on my mind" Not exactly the truth, but not exactly a lie either. They do need to pack, but not for another hour, so there is time. But he can't bring himself to go there.

Lizzie's breath hitches slightly at his words and her face turn a lovely shade of pink. It's maddening to know he has this effect on her, it's all he ever wished for; for her to look at him like a man. With lust and love in her eyes. But now that he has it and knows about Tom, her reaction is nothing but painful. Does she imagine Tom in his place?

"But I want to kiss you" She pouts, and she looks so adorable that he doesn't know how to react. He could manage to kiss her, just a small peck without any emotion, quick and short.

He knows he should come up with some form of excuse for why can't kiss her right now. Some excuse for why last night and this morning can't happen again, but he can't bring himself to burst that bobble yet. He just wants to live in this world a little longer. The world where Lizzie wants him as much as he wants her, and where she is falling for him. Where she could grow to love him as much as he loves her. He want's to stay here for just a little while longer before he comes up with an excuse to why nothing can ever happen again.

So he kisses her, cups her face in the palm of his hands and devours her lips, desperate and bruising. Her hands grasp the lapels of his shirt, locking him to her and then she moans. A jolt of electricity runs through his body at the contact, just like it always does. He wonders if she feels it too, and then he wonders why she's picking Tom when it feels this good between them. He breaks away when her tongue swipe across his bottom lip, searching for entrance.

He leans his forehead against hers, his ragged breath fanning her face. It's to painful. How will he ever manage to let her go? She feels so good, so warm and loving. She's everything he wants, everything he needs. But he won't 'borrow' her. She's either his, or she isn't.

He breaks away then and watches as her eyes flutter open to look at him. He tries to give her a loving smile, but he has a feeling it comes out more painful than anything else. He straightens himself up then, places a lingering kiss on her forehead before sidestepping her to walk away.  
One of her hands reach out to grab his wrist then, halting him in his steps. He looks down at her hand first, watches her small finger circle around his big wrist. Her fingers are soft, so soft and loving it nearly kills him. How is he supposed to ever forget her touch?

"You know" She sighs heavily. It's not a question, more like a statement, and he knows right away what she's talking about. He curses himself inwardly for his inability to hide anything from her. Either he's slipping, or she is getting far too good at read him.

He dares to draw his face up to hers then. Her eyes look so soft and understanding, yet they also hold pain. "You know about Tom, that's why you didn't want me to touch you. It's why you just kissed me like it was the last time you'd be doing it" He feels far to open for his comfort so he snatches his hand away like he was just burned by her touch. He needs some distance. She shouldn't be able to read him so easily.

He makes a beeline to the door, hasty to get away from her prying eyes that see far to much. He's in the doorway when her voice halts him.

"I'm sorry, okay? I am so, so sorry" He hears her turn around on the carpet, her feet shuffling a little, before they finally still again. "But I did it for you" This makes his head snap toward her.

"You did it for me? How on earth did you come to the conclusion that calling your poor excuse of a husband would benefit me in any way?" His voice is hard and raised .He's not yelling, just more harsh. If she wants to have this conversation he's giving all he's got. "I hate the man with every fiber of my being, and I specifically told you not to contact him, but you did anyway. And on the same day you decide to come looking for me after a week of silence. How is that supposed to benefit me? Is the benefit that I got to have my way with you? Because I can tell you right now that it doesn't feel like a benefit. Spending a night with a woman that's in love with someone else doesn't exactly feel like I just won the biggest price of my life" He spits, his voice dripping with venom. He has long since abandoned his control, his words falling freely from his mouth.

Lizzie flinches at his words and opens her mouth to respond, but he cuts her off with holding his palm up. "I don't particularly care for your excuses or your 'I'm sorry's' right now. We don't have time for this, we need to pack. That is if you're still coming with me. If not, I wish you the best of luck with Tom, and I hope you have a long and happy life" His words drip with sarcasm and anger. He moves to take a step again, but something hits the back of his head so he stops him mid step. Did she just throw something at him? It felt like clothing. He turns around then, sees that he's right in his assessment. She just threw her shirt at him.

"Can I talk now? First of all, I am a person, not some price. And secondly this particular ´excuse´ you want to hear" Her fingers air quote when she says the word excuse. "So can you for once in your life just stop an listen before running away?!" Her voice raises an octave or two, not yelling yet, but talking louder. He just stares at her in return, never answering, just watches as she paces back and forth in only her trousers and bra. She looks magnificent when she's angry. He shakes the thought out of his head. He needs to listen now.

"The reason I called Tom was because you looked so miserable. You have sacrificed so much for me this last month, your immunity deal, putting most of your business on hold. All so you could take care of me and help me. And everything was going okay. Until I kissed you. You acted like I did the unforgivable act in history. You ignored me and nearly drank yourself to death. Just because I kissed you. So I called Tom, to get out of your hair, so you could go back to your old life without having to be around me when you clearly didn't want to. I called him to find a way to ease your troubles, but when he answered I couldn't bring myself to ask for his help. I couldn't go through with it because the thought of leaving you was to painful. So I hung up before ever saying anything" She stops her pacing then to look at him. The pain and sadness in her eyes is nearly too much for him to bear, yet he still stands there.

He watches as her chest rise and fall, as she fidgets slightly under his stare, how the anger dies in her eyes being replaced completely by sadness and defeat. She lets out a sigh again then and looks to the floor. "And I don't love Tom anymore, I haven't loved him for a long time" She stops to take a deep an steadying breath, like she's preparing to reveal a big secret. "I'm falling for you, okay? But if you want me to leave, I'll leave" She brings her head back up then with a painful smile on her lips. Her eyes are brimming red, tears filling in the corner.

She keeps her eyes on him, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. He knows he should say something, anything, but his vocal cord seem to have fled. His brain is still stuck on the fact that she said she's falling in love with him. Him? He did not except that. He opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes. He should say something, do something. But still he just stands there, mouth hanging open in shock, his body refusing to move and his throat to dry to speak.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I'll just leave" She whispers, sounding so broken and hurt, her tears still rolling down her cheeks.

She moves then, awkward and shy. She walks over to him and bends down to pick her shirt up. And he just stand there. Why isn't he moving? It's not until she rises again that he reacts. He reaches out and drags her roughly against him, locking her in with an hand pressing against the small of her back. The other hand he uses to cup her face in his palm to tilt her face upwards so she's looking at him. He swipes his thumb back and forth, wiping away her tears. Lizzie closes her eyes and buries her face against his palm, searching for comfort. Then she lets out a little content sigh.

He just stares at her, marvels at how this beautiful creature is falling for him. It's so wonderful and frightening at the same time. If he were a better man he would let her go, but he isn't. He's selfish and possessive and he wants _her._ He couldn't possibly even entertain the thought of letting her go now that he has a chance, a chance to make her fall completely in love with him. And he will. He will make her fall so hard she wont ever be able to get back up.

"I love you" He whispers carefully and a little nervously. She didn't exactly say she loved him, just that she was falling in love with him, but he loves her, and he wants her to know. "You don't have to say it back, but I just want you to know" And it's true, he doesn't need her to say it back, that there is a chance that she might love him back someday is more than he could ever hope for.

He leans down then, brushing his lips carefully against hers, just a ghost of a kiss before drawing back to look at her. Her eyes flutter open, slowly, reluctantly. She just stares at him in awe, vowing her arms around the back of his neck, dropping her shirt to the floor again. She stands on the tips of her toes then and kisses him, desperately. She swallows his moan and plunges her tongue inside his mouth, swirling it around his.

Her fingers slide up the back of his neck all the way up to his short hair, scraping her fingernails across his scalp. He reacts like he always do; groans out loud, drawing her nearer, impossibly near until her body is tightly pressed against his. The hand he was cupping her face with, he slides down her side, grasping at her hip, his thumb stroking slowly back and forth over her hipbone.

He is lost to her, so utterly lost in her lips, the feel of her pressed against him. She makes him loose focus on everything around him, its like she kisses the room away, wraps him up in her bobble so everything he hears, feels and breathes is her. She has so much power over him it's frightening. Its like she holds his heart in the tiny palm of her hand, her fingers wrapped tightly around it. She can either make him or break him. He just hopes she never breaks him.

He tears his mouth away for some much needed air and wraps both arms around her in a tight hug. She lays her head on his beating heard and he kisses her hair, breathing her in, letting her scent calm him.

He doesn't know how long they stand there, just holding each other before he finally decides to break the heavy silence with a knuckle "I have never had a shirt thrown at me before"

She draws her head back then to give him a look of disbelief. "All those women and no one has ever thrown a shirt at you?" She rises her eyebrow, a small smile kissing her lips.

"Well, there was this one woman, but she didn't exactly throw her shirt" He shoots back, keeping a far away look at his face just to make her think he's reliving the moment.

Lizzie smacks his chest "Hey!"

"Oh my god, you're one of those women aren't you? Those that beats their man!" He contorts his face into mock pain and rubs a hand over his heart, right where she hit him. It really didn't hurt, he barely felt it, but he cant resist teasing her.

"Come on! I barely touched you! Besides, you kinda deserved it" She tilts her chin upward with a huff. She looks adorable and warmth spreads across his body, his heart beating a little harder. He loves her playful side.

"Why?"

"Because you were thinking about another woman throwing their panties at you"

He smirks at that "I never said she threw her panties, and as much as your jealousy is endearing, it's unnecessary because there is no woman"

"There better not be" She pokes her finger against his chest then, her face stern.

He knuckles at her. "I promise, you're the only one that has ever thrown clothes at me"

"I'm sorry, okay? It was the only thing within reaching distance that I knew wouldn't hurt" She shrugs her shoulders, a smile dancing on her lips. "And your reaction; priceless. You looked so shocked" A small laugh bubbles forth then, like she's picturing in her head again. "I think I'll start doing that every time we fight. As soon as you start getting angry I'll just start taking my clothes of, shut you up real fast"

"Why do I get the feeling I'll loose every fight we have from now on?" He muses out loud like he doesn't have a clue. He probably would loose if shed did, he never could withstand a beautiful woman, and Lizzie is the most beautiful of them all.

"Because you probably will" She throws easily before breaking their hug and bending to retrieve the shirt that landed on the floor again when she kissed him. Then she starts walking towards the door with him turning around after her, looking at her as she walks him by "Now, what time to I have to be ready for our flight?" She asks sweetly.

He checks the time on his wristwatch before telling her. "An hour"

"See you in one hour then" She winks before sauntering out the door and out of sight. He just stands there staring at the spot she just left. He can't believe that was Lizzie. Lizzie who's always been so hot and cold towards him. Now she was being playful and easygoing. He likes it, hopes that he'll see it again.

He shakes his head with a small chuckle before going to get ready himself.

TBC..

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 **A/N: So there it is. Leave a review an tell me what you think.**

 **I don't think the next chapter will take this long to post.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I am sorry to say that this will be the last chapter for this story. I originally had planned a lot more, but my inspiration has left me hanging after everything they've done to the show recently. Sorry.  
So instead I present to you a short and hopefully lovely end.**

 **I would also like to say thank you to everyone who's been sticking with me until the end. Your reviews has meant the world to me!**

 **Without further ado, I present the last chapter of Love your dark. Enjoy :)**

 **Also. They are not mine :(**

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"Do you know what it says?" She asks from his chest. Her fingers toying with the gold wedding band on his finger. "Inside I mean"

They've been in bed since the ceremony ended, thoroughly enjoying each others bodies. He still can't believe she actually said yes to be his wife. It still amazes him, and it still makes him wonder what he did to ever get so lucky. But she did. She said yes when he asked, and then she said I do a few hours ago.

"It says something inside?" He lifts an eyebrow at her, his hand skating down her back, over her spine.

"Yes" She smiles lazily, her fingers still twirling the gold band around his finger, toying with it. "You should look" She adds before releasing his hand in favor of drawing patterns on his naked chest.

"It says something in mine too" She adds after a beat of silence when he doesn't make a move to take the ring of so he can read inside.

She goes to slide the ring of her finger then, but his hand stops her. "I'd rather you just tell me, Lizzie"

He starts toying with her ring then, just to quiet the small panic inside his chest. She's never allowed to take it of. Not for anything, even if it is just to show him something. He couldn't bear it if she ever removed it.

"I'm still your wife you know. With or without the ring" She whispers quietly, rising slightly so her eyes can focus more on his. So they can search his face.

He just stares back at her, remaining tight lipped. He is not about to go into a discussion on this. The ring is there to stay for as long as they both shall live. He needs it. Needs the proof that this is real and not some cruel dream his mind is playing for him. He needs to be able to touch it, feel it. Because it does feel like a dream. Ever since the first night it has felt like a dream.

"Fine" She smiles, her hand breaking away from his to cup his face. Her thumb running lovingly over his cheek. "I my ring I had something fitting written. Something you do, something I know you do every single time you look at me" She pauses, a soft smile playing on her lips. "In my ring it says `I see all your light`"

"And in mine?" He whispers, almost a little scared to know the answer.

"I love your dark" 

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**AN: Again, thank you, thank you, thank you. It's meant a lot to me! :D**

 **And I promise, this is not my last story. There will be more ;)**


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